Dawnguard
by The Straight Elf
Summary: Brodith, a bosmer that just wants to ignore the dragons and find his own path in life, hears rumors of the Dawnguard. Seeing it as a way to better himself, he follows the tales. His decisions lead to a new life, one that will serve as a crucible before his ultimate destiny. Note: I was amazed that there were only a few Dawnguard fics, so I made my own. Read and Review.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hope you like this. Please tell me if you find any errors or any way that I could improve the story later. Review.

Disclaimer: I don't own Skyrim.

Brodith wasn't a fighter, not of the warrior variety anyway. He was a thief, someone that tried to sneak past their enemies or kill them before they even knew he was there. It was really the only way he could fight, since he was too slight in build to go toe to toe with many foes and easily win.

That strategy had served the bosmer well ever since he escaped his execution at Helgen two weeks ago. He'd gotten a lot more skilled with his bow and sneaking around, mostly due to practical experience. Fighting bandits and sneaking up on mages that could burn him to a crisp or turn him into an ice sculpture was a trial by fire, but those trials had given him the incentive not to be caught.

No matter how much he'd grown, the elf wasn't anywhere near to fight a dragon. He'd seen how much power just one of them could wield – the dragon destroying a small town in the span of less than an hour was a shocking realization of just how weak men and mer were compared to it. If that was the norm, than he was going to leave the dragon slaying to the Empire and run away whenever he saw one.

Jarl Balgruuf had proved to be a good leader in his attempts to stay out of the Civil War sweeping Skyrim, and Brodith hoped that he would prove just as good at fighting the dragons if they were truly returning. He hadn't seen one since Helgen, which might have meant that it was just a random incident. For now, he was ignoring the problem. It wasn't his fight.

But the dragon made him realize how weak he was. Skyrim was a land of many dangers, and he needed to improve if he wanted to survive in his new adventuring career. And by now he had improved enough to fight a vampire – admittedly, it was with help from a guard in Whiterun – and actually did most of the damage to the monster with his sword and dagger than his bow. He was pleased with the result – one dead vampire and decent armor to sell, plus some expensive vampire dust – and the guard had directed him to an area east of Riften where some group called the Dawnguard was forming.

Since he needed to continue improving, and fighting vampires would be good experience, Brodith had journeyed to it. At the very least this "Dawnguard" could probably give him some pointers.

He'd been a little unnerved with some of the people there – a few were nearly fanatical in their devotion to slaying vampires – but overall didn't mind them. After waiting for Isran and that Vigilant of Stendarr to finish talking, Brodith had been given orders to journey to Dimhollow Crypt. The bosmer had left after just a few days at Fort Dawnguard, where he had learned how to use his crossbow. It was a surprisingly enjoyable weapon to use, and he had been ensured that it would be effective against any vampires he came across.

Once he was sure that he could use it well, he journeyed to the crypt. Aside from a few bandits trying to hold him up – they had been quickly dispatched by his blades, since they were too close for his crossbow – and a single vampire hunting, it was a quiet journey. After ten days of travelling, he had gotten to the crypt.

After cautiously entering and keeping an eye out for any vampires, he had encountered two of them near the entrance. Brodith carefully dispatched them with the crossbow and continued on his way, pausing only to take their dust. He could take the rest of their things on a return journey, but for now he didn't want to spend too much time in one place. Sooner or later the vampires would realize that their fellows were gone, and he didn't want to fight more than one vampire in a fair fight. Even with the advantage of stealth, they were hard to kill.

Brodith had moved swiftly throughout the crypt, keeping to the corners and shadows. Staying in the shadows wouldn't help much against the vampires or anything that lived down here, but it would help to keep him safe from their thralls. He was only forced to reveal himself once, when a particularly perceptive vampire had heard him and started throwing clouds of swirling ice at him. The bosmer had been forced out of his comfort zone, and met the vampire head on.

After a fierce fight that he very nearly lost, Brodith had finally managed to finish the vampire off with his Skyforge steel sword – he had gotten lucky and stolen it from the Companions, so he didn't hang around Jorrvaskr with it – and rested for awhile while the healing potions and cure disease potions given to him by the Dawnguard did their work. It was pure luck that he'd won that fight, as the vampire was superior to him with a blade. The crossbow bolt he'd managed to lodge in her chest slowed the vampire down enough for him to kill her.

He made sure to be careful after that, although he had been dragged into one last fight with that vampire, Lokil, that had killed that Vigilant. Personally, he didn't begrudge the vampire for the Vigilant's death – they seemed a little bit too judgmental to be good followers of Stendarr –but he was in his way. Besides, this one seemed a little more bloodthirsty than the other vampires he'd listened to.

So he had leveled the crossbow at the vampire's back, since he was at a long enough distance to not alert them with the sound of the crossbow, and fired. Frustratingly, his lesser experience with the crossbow made his aim slightly off. The bolt went off course and landed in the thrall's back instead, instantly dropping the man. It was a very lucky shot for it to have killed the thrall in a single shot, but he was slightly annoyed that he'd missed his true target.

While he was glad the shot wasn't a complete waste, it now meant that he had to fight two powerful vampires. Lokil and his assistant had been alerted, and they judged his location from the angle the thrall had been struck at. They hid behind thick cover – he'd begun to really hate the stone pillars in these ancient ruins – and only left their cover for a few seconds to throw spells in his general direction.

The spells kept him pinned down, just as he had them pinned down. He was in a relatively safe position, but he didn't want them getting a decent shot at them. If he was lucky, they would run out of magicka pretty fast. He didn't want to waste any of his limited supply of crossbow bolts, so he couldn't risk wasting a shot.

If he could just force them out of hiding, than he would be able to take at least one out of the battle. At the very least he would probably be able to cripple one. There was no way he could fight two vampires at once, especially not when one was a mage. He didn't have any enchanted equipment that would give him an edge against spells, and he didn't have enough money to buy the necessary potions.

Brodith finally got a lucky break. They seemed to have run out of magicka, because both sprinted out of their cover and across the bridge at a speed greater than any mortal could achieve. He took a moment to admire their sheer power before preparing to take them down.

Unfortunately for them, he thought as he carefully leveled his bow at the rapidly advancing vampires, they weren't moving fast enough to not be shot. Perhaps a human of similar skill would miss the shot, lacking the dexterity and keen eyes of their mer counterparts, but he wouldn't.

A sharp _twang_ greeted his ears as one of his last two bolts left the crossbow, landing with a sickening crunch in the assistant's leg. She screamed, and even Brodith had to wince. It sounded like the bolt had broken bone. He reloaded as fast as he could, and when the vampire began to angle towards him, he released his last shot.

Lokil snarled at him, his orange eyes burning in hatred as he twisted out of the bolt's way. Brodith threw his crossbow a few feet away and grabbed the two blades that he had set down on a rock for easy access.

Just a few seconds after he'd grabbed the blades, the vampire was upon him. Even Brodith's good reflexes were too slow, as the vampire raked his face with sharp nails. He hissed in agony, but was thankful that the vampire hadn't gotten him in the forehead. Blood dripping down into his eyes would make his chances of victory even more nonexistent.

In response for the gouges in his face, the bosmer gave a fast swipe with his sword. The attack was easily batted away with the flat of the vampire's own blade, and Lokil began his offensive.

The vampire pounded away at his admittedly weak defenses with his elven made sword, and the bosmer could barely keep up. Wielding two blades at once didn't make for a very good defense, although it didn't usually matter since Brodith tended to never need a defense. Right now though, he wished he had used a shield for this fight instead.

Although he was clearly the inferior in this battle, Brodith hadn't taken any major damage. A few cuts had resulted from the vampire's attacks, but he hadn't been stabbed. Yet.

Brodith finally found an opening when the vampire stumbled over a loose rock. Seeing it as the best chance he would get, the bosmer danced around Lokil's attempted swipe and circled behind him. Although the vampire was already beginning to turn, he managed to lean downwards and let his momentum carry his dagger to its destination.

Lokil screamed in agony as he felt the steel cut through his hamstring. Brodith thanked whatever god was helping him right now and began to take his advantage over the collapsed vampire.

It was a testament to the vampire's skill that he wasn't overwhelmed. Even as he leaned back against the cold stone walls of the cavern, nearly immobile, the vampire batted away most of Brodith's attacks with an enraged glint in his eyes. The vampire found his own opening and grabbed Brodith's right leg, gouging deep wounds into it with his sharp claws.

Brodith nearly screamed at the pain, but managed to choke it down. Before Lokil could try to take advantage of the situation he fell upon the vampire, plunging his steel dagger into Lokil's pale chest. The dagger easily tore through his thin armor, and blood began to color the dark fabric.

Lokil didn't scream, but looked at the bosmer with orange eyes before grinning madly. The bosmer raised his sword far too slowly, eyes widening in horror as the vampire leaned forward and plunged his needle sharp fangs into Brodith's leg, easily bypassing the thin leather armor.

A second later the sword came down and decapitated the vampire, sending a spray of blood onto Brodith. He ignored it and collapsed the moment the vampire disintegrated into dust. He withdrew his dagger from the pile and cut out the area of his leather armor the vampire had bitten.

When the area was clear he examined the wound. It was extremely neat, and he could barely see the two small pinpricks of blood. There was no pain when he moved his leg, and Brodith was confident that he would be fine the moment he drank a cure disease potion.

Brodith found his bag in the rocks where he had stashed it and returned his swords to their sheaths. He found the crossbow and carefully inspected it, ensuring there was no real damage. Aside from a few scratches the weapon was fine, something that made him sigh in relief. While he was somewhat competent with his blades, he was much better with his bow and crossbow.

Now that he had gathered all of his equipment, Brodith dug around in his bag for his potions. He found several healing potions and laid them out next to him, and then searched his bag for a cure disease potion.

He searched it for nearly a minute, growing more and more concerned as he couldn't find one. By the time he gave up he was in full blown panic. If he couldn't get the vampire's disease that he was almost certain to have cured, he would become one of them. He wasn't willing to trade the ability to walk freely in the day just for a bit of extra power.

But as he examined his options, he realized with a growing sense of horror that he might not be able to get to safety in time. Fort Dawnguard was at least ten days away on foot, and no horse or carriage would get him there in time. The closest cities were Morthal and Solitude, and even they were more than three days away.

It was strange. Just three days and his life might be changed forever. His only hope was to find a cure disease potion somewhere around here – not likely, since vampires were completely immune to other diseases – or from a traveler on the road. A Vigilant would be more than happy to do the honors, but they had all massed at Fort Dawnguard after their Hall was destroyed. As far as he knew none were still wandering throughout Skyrim.

Brodith finally acknowledged that there was a good chance he would become a vampire. He couldn't return to the Dawnguard if he was turned, but he could at least figure out what the vampires had been looking for before he disrupted their operations.

He carefully gathered his things before moving. The bosmer winced in pain from the bite as he stood up. Potions had more trouble healing magical and cursed wounds, so he would be feeling a bit of soreness and pain there for a few hours at the very least. He suddenly remembered that the assistant hadn't been finished off, but she strangely seemed to have died from the bolt. Brodith scooped up her ashes before moving on.

Unfortunately, it was a bit more painful than he was anticipating. He found himself limping as he crossed the bridge, and he had to move carefully to avoid slipping on the slightly wet stone. When he had reached the other side, he carefully looked around. There were no more vampires, although the thrall's corpse was in the large circular area.

Brodith dragged the corpse outside the circle, panting and wincing in pain as he did so. The thrall was heavy, and he, like most bosmer, wasn't very strong. It was only through removing the man's armor that he was able to move him at all.

When the man had been dragged out – he didn't really know why he'd done it in the first place, the corpse's presence just felt _wrong_ for some reason – he turned back to the circle. There was some sort of ornate button on a pedestal, and Brodith warily approached it. He knew that ominously placed things at the bottom of crypts tended to end badly for him, but he had to try it. If he had to suffer a bit of pain to unveil the secret hidden here he would accept it.

So when he arrived at the pedestal, he wasted no time in waiting. Hesitance would just make his apprehension grow worse. Brodith laid his palm over the button and pushed.

A moment later his world erupted in pain. He nearly collapsed from the sheer agony of a spike tearing through his hand, forcing muscle, bone and tendon out of the way, but managed to hold himself up with his other hand. Blood sprayed his face, but he paid no attention to it. When he finally opened his eyes he realized that a mystical wall of violet fire had erupted from the circle around him. Brodith ignored it in favor of his hand's unending agony.

After what seemed like an eternity the pain lessened enough for him to function, and he carefully removed his hand from the spike. Brodith examined the wound as his good hand frantically searched his bag for another healing potion. He got lucky and found his single ultimate healing potion, something he had paid an incredible amount of septims for. After seeing some of the traps in the dungeons and caverns he cleared, he realized that it would be good to have something extra powerful ready to help.

He watched in awe as the powerful potion did its work knitting the flesh back together and somehow restoring what had been lost from the spike, and finally sighed in relief when the pain was gone and his hand was nearly as good as new. In the time it would have taken for his normal potions to heal a shallow gash the potion had restored an entire hole.

Now that he was healed, he cautiously approached the wall of flame. He couldn't feel heat emanating from it, but one never knew what tricks magic could pull. A hand gingerly stretched towards the flame until his index finger was only a centimeter away. Brodith carefully touched the flame, half-expecting it to burn away his finger.

When it didn't, he put his entire hand through. Now satisfied that it wouldn't incinerate him, he stepped through. Without the flames distorting his vision, he could now see that there were stone braziers throughout the room.

The bosmer approached one and tried to find some sort of switch. He found that just the slightest bit of pressure caused it to slide backwards. When the pedestal burst into flame, he realized that he would probably need to push the others around until they lit up.

As he moved off to complete this task, the bosmer silently reflected on just how much he hated these puzzles. They seemed to be in every dungeon, and they all seemed to work perfectly despite being inert for a few thousand years. It really was rather irritating.

XXX

Fortunately, the puzzle took very little time to complete. The braziers were easily moved, and there weren't many ways to confuse him. All that he had to do was push them until they burst into purple flame.

He barely had a moment to relax before the ground in the center of the circle separated, revealing a swirling nexus of pink, purple, and black energy. As the monolith rose from the ground, revealing more and more of its shape, he stepped away and pulled the crossbow off of his back and raised it. If something _else_ came out of the energy, he was going to be prepared.

Brodith hesitantly lowered his crossbow as the energy was covered by the familiar stone of the circle. He stepped up to the monolith and touched it, trying to see if another reaction would occur.

Surprisingly, when he touched the monolith the part facing him crumbled. Brodith's eyes widened in surprise as a woman with some sort of artifact on her back was revealed. She fell, and the bosmer barely managed to catch her before she hit the ground.

The woman seemed to recover her balance quickly, and pulled herself up. Now that she was standing, Brodith could look at her properly. She was beautiful, although the glowing orange eyes that marked her as a vampire distracted him from it. The clothes she wore were similar to those of the vampires he had slain on the way through the crypt, so she was probably connected to them in some way. He had no idea what the artifact on her back was, it was far too ornate and looked too valuable for him to have knowledge of.

Her sudden question redirected his attention.

"Where is…" she started in confusion, "who sent you here?"

Brodith raised an eyebrow. "Were you expecting someone?"

"I was expecting someone…like me, at least."

The bosmer gave a humorless smile. "A vampire?" he replied. "I'll be one of you soon enough. One of your fellows bit me a few minutes ago."

She frowned, but didn't say anything.

"Why _were_ you locked away?" Brodith continued, hoping to glean more information. From her stiff movements it had to have been awhile, and being imprisoned wasn't something one did willingly.

The vampire looked uncomfortable with his question. Not that he could really blame her, they were complete strangers after all.

"That's complicated," she responded, "and I'm not totally sure if I can trust you. But if you want to know the whole story, help me get back to my family's home."

Brodith shrugged, but nodded to her request. He wouldn't mind knowing the whole story, true, but if she had a home, then it meat that he might have a place to stay once he…changed.

"Alright," the bosmer replied, "where do you need to go?"

She seemed to brighten slightly at this. "My family used to live on an island to the west of Solitude. I would guess they still do."

The bosmer's brow furrowed. An island to the west of Solitude would have to be in the Sea of Ghosts, somewhere that was quite dangerous to live in. He supposed that was the point, since it would keep away most adventurers. The cold wouldn't affect vampires very badly, so all in all the location made some sort of sense.

"By the way," the vampire continued, "my name's Serana. Good to meet you."

"Likewise. My name is Brodith. By the way," he added, looking around the large cavern, "do you have any idea how to get out of here? The path back is long, and I think it was blocked off."

Serana crossed her arms with a thoughtful look on her face.

"Your guess is as good as mine." She admitted, "This place looks pretty different from when I was locked away."

His eyebrows rose in surprise. How long had she been trapped in that monolith? When he voiced his thoughts, it appeared that she didn't know either.

"Good question. I…I can't really tell. I feel like it was a long time. Who is Skyrim's High King?"

Brodith frowned. He supposed it would be Jarl Elisif, since he didn't think that the Stormcloaks could actually defeat the Empire, but one never knew. Besides, from what he'd heard the politics of Skyrim were muddled. It was anyone's game now.

"That's actually a matter for debate." He said.

"Oh, wonderful." Serana said, rolling her eyes, "A war of succession. Good to know the world didn't get boring while I was gone."

The bosmer smirked at that.

"Who are the contenders?" The vampire questioned.

"The Empire supports Jarl Elisif of Solitude, but there are many in Skyrim loyal to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm." He frowned at the last part of his explanation, but he grew more confused than annoyed as Serana frowned.

"Empire?" She said in bewilderment, "What…what Empire."

"The Empire…from Cyrodiil."

"Cyrodiil is the seat of an empire?" The vampire asked in bewilderment. "I must have been gone longer than I thought. Definitely longer than we planned," she muttered.

Brodith wondered just how long she was locked in that monolith. There had been numerous empires based out of Cyrodiil since the First Era. If she had been locked away since the First Era…well, he couldn't imagine it. Not even elves lived that long, so the very concept of living that many years was alien to him, let alone spending it trapped in a crypt.

That alerted him to something else. How did she even speak the same tongue as he did? Even if she had spoken the same language, it should have been far less developed than the modern tongue. Deciding that it was less important than escaping this place, however, he ignored it. He could ask later.

For now, his attention returned to Serana. She had seemingly gotten over the fact that she had been trapped for several thousand years and began to speak again.

"Please, let's hurry." She requested, "I need to get home so I can figure out what happened."

"Alright," the bosmer nodded. "I don't like this place anyways."

He moved towards the bridge that would hopefully lead them to a way out. Serana followed closely behind, looking around the cave curiously. Her movements were slow and slightly stiff, so he had to slow down a bit.

"Does the air feel…heavy down here?" She questioned. "I'm a little woozy, but it might just be from waking up."

"Yes," he replied, "it's stale. This place has been undisturbed for a few thousand years, after all."

She didn't say anything and continued to follow him. Brodith was moving slowly, both to accommodate the vampire and to watch for any traps. He didn't expect any more vampires, since this area didn't seem to have been touched, but was still wary of the draugr or giant spiders that might inhabit these areas.

There was a set of stairs with a large, vicious looking statue at the top, and although he couldn't see a door from where he was standing he decided to examine the area closer. As he moved closer, transitioning from the cold stone floor to dirt and rubble, the statue seemed to explode. Dust temporarily obscured his vision, but he raised his crossbow.

"Look out!" Serana cried, "Gargoyles!"

"Why didn't you tell me about them?" Brodith shouted over the fierce cry of the monster. The dust had mostly settled, and he could easily see the hulking gargoyle stalking over to them. A moment later the gargoyle shrieked in pain as a crossbow bolt thudded into its hard chest.

The bosmer was stunned at how fast the gargoyle closed the distance between them, but managed to fire off another bolt that landed in its neck. Although the monster was stunned for a moment, it didn't seem to be badly injured by the bolt that was awkwardly swinging with its movements. He dropped the crossbow and kicked it away as he withdrew his blades, hoping that steel would do a better job of harming the stone creature.

Before he'd managed to full unsheathe his blades, the gargoyle had mostly recovered. Brodith wondered what Serana was doing, but a few bright flashes of light and another shriek from a gargoyle made him realize that two of the monstrosities were attacking them.

The gargoyle's bestial features grew nearer, and the bosmer realized with a dawning sense of horror that it was using its tattered wings to somehow glide over to him. He raised his sword in preparation and hoped that the monster would go down easier than he was expecting. His body was exhausted from the constant series of battle, and he'd been feeling weaker than usual ever since the vampire had bitten him.

A sharp clang of metal meeting stone greeted his ears as the gargoyle leapt at him, ignoring the waiting steel. His Skyforge sword did its job admirably, proving its effectiveness as it slid into the gargoyle with only a slight feel of resistance.

His satisfaction waned, however, as the gargoyle continued its attempts to attack him. Brodith raised his dagger and slammed it into its neck, giving a tired smile as the monster shrieked one last time before falling limp to the ground.

Now that his own opponent had been defeated, he rushed over to aid Serana. She didn't seem to be having difficulty, although the monster didn't seem to be very affected by her spells. The vampire met his eyes as he flanked the stone creature, and as he stabbed it in the back she turned away for a moment to bring Brodith's opponent back as her thrall.

When Brodith saw the newly arrived ally, he backed off and went to find his crossbow. He watched with great interest as the two monsters met with piercing shrieks and the grating of stone claws meeting stone flesh.

By the time he'd retrieved his crossbow, the fight had been finished. Serana'a opponent had already been weakened by the time Brodith intervened, and by the time Serana's thrall had attacked it was crippled. Brodith curiously watched as the vampire cut the connection to her thrall, leaving it to collapse as the necromantic energies sustaining it left it.

Brodith walked up to the gargoyles' fallen corpses and searched through the gashes and torn areas that they had suffered. He was pleasantly surprised when he found ebony ore and several emeralds. Once he had safely stored them in his bag he stood up and continued searching for an exit. There wasn't one around the gargoyles' location, but Serana finally found another way.

After she had called him over, they carefully went up the tightly packed earth slope. Brodith had warned her of the irritating number of traps that he tended to come across in his travels. They got lucky, although when they reached a part of the crypt that was in the style of the Ancient Nords the bosmer became even more wary. It was dark, although he could see the form of lifeless braziers.

When the duo reached a long set of stairs, Brodith abruptly stopped. Serana barely managed to avoid running into him, and looked at him questioningly.

"This is the perfect area for draugr to be," he explained, waving his arm at the crumbling stairs, "they are almost always in a position to ambush, and I can't think of a better place for one. So keep your spells ready."

She nodded in understanding, and Brodith felt a wave of cold come from her hands. He looked down and saw a small, swirling cloud of ice nestled in her hand. Brodith noticed that it looked to be stronger than the ice spikes she had thrown at the gargoyles.

Confident that they were prepared, he raised his crossbow and cautiously went up the stairs. It was darker in here than the cave, and he silently wished that he had better night vision. Serana would warn him if there were draugr wandering about, however, so he wasn't completely blind. Brodith made his way up the stairs to the light at the top of them, presumably from some enchanted brazier or torches.

When they safely reached the top, Brodith scanned the area. There were several sarcophagi that presumably held draugr, but their fronts hadn't been forced off yet, so perhaps the ancient undead wouldn't attack them. His eyes saw a lever that was surrounded by several lit candles, as well as a large doorway.

"Serana," he said, motioning to the large passageway, "go over there and see if there's some sort of gate or something. That lever has to be for something."

"Alright." The vampire shrugged.

He watched her walk off before moving to stand by the lever. When she shouted back to him an affirmative about the gate, he prepared his crossbow and raised it at one of the sarcophagi.

"Get back in here," he shouted, breaking the eerie silence of the tomb, "I need you to get this lever for me."

The vampire walked back in from the passage, rolling her orange eyes.

"Couldn't you get it? It's just a lever."

"Considering that it's probably rusted, no. Besides, you're probably stronger than I am." Brodith admitted.

Serana smiled in amusement and grabbed the lever's handle before using her hidden strength to force it over. The sound of the iron gate grinding as it raised was overshadowed by the crash as the front of the sarcophagi were forced off by their inhabitants.

Brodith released the bolt the moment he could see the pale, preserved form of the draugr stepping out of its tomb. It groaned as the bolt struck it squarely in the neck, dropping it in a single shot. The bosmer wasted no time in lining up another shot at one of the approaching draugr. Serena had already unleashed a blast of ice at one of the remaining three draugr, and it was clearly dead.

The vampire easily took down two of the draugr as Brodith's crossbow fired, launching a steel bolt into the last draugr's neck. His eyes widened as it brushed the attack off as though it were nothing, ruthlessly wrenching the bolt out of its neck. He barely had time to draw his sword as the draugr reared its head back.

The undead warrior shouted at him in some language that he couldn't fully understand but felt that he should.

"FUS RO DAH!"

A wave of pale blue energy erupted from the toothless mouth of the draugr, and smashed into him. The pure force of the energy threw him back, sending him flying off of the ground and down the stairs. His crossbow was ripped from his hands, and he couldn't tell where it had gone. He felt nothing but icy panic and confusion as he felt himself thrown away, which quickly dissolved into pain as he impacted the hard stone.

He heard a sickening crack as his head impacted the stone floor, protected only by a thin layer of leather. Through the pain he thought that he heard someone screaming his name, but he couldn't think of who it was through the lance of pain that stabbed through the back of his head and his arm.

Brodith tried to get up, but found that the pain stopped him. The world was blurry as he opened his eyes, and he could see flashes of whitish blue energy from the corner of his eye. He found himself wanting to go to sleep, and tried to surrender to the blackness that was crowding around the edges of his vision.

Just before the blackness overwhelmed his vision he found himself enshrouded in a soft golden glow that covered his entire body, mending it and making pain from injuries he hadn't even realized he had lessen. As his vision cleared and his thoughts became clearer, he felt strong hands pull him into a sitting position and leaning him against the wall.

The bosmer drowsily opened his eyes, only to see the concerned face of Serana staring back at him. She seemed to be asking him something, but it took a moment for his mind to comprehend her question.

"Do you have healing potions? I'm not a good enough healer to repair all of the damage."

Her voice was rather calm, although he could hear the worried undertone in it. It took him a moment, but he managed to respond rather clearly.

"In my bag, should be next to the lever. Small pink and red ones," he gasped, "stay away from anything blue or green."

Serana nodded and she ran off, leaving the bosmer to wake himself up. Now that the powerful healing spell she had used on him was working, his thoughts were becoming even more ordered and comprehensive. Brodith tried to raise his left arm, only to feel a searing pain spike through it. He hissed in agony and carefully lowered it. When he looked at it he could see that it was at an unnatural angle, and he awkwardly put it in a position that minimized the pain.

Aside from the broken bone, he seemed to be relatively unscathed. The healing spell had presumably healed any scrapes or smaller injuries, although he wasn't sure if it had healed the back of his head. There were occasional stabs of pain coming from it, but it wasn't nearly as bad as when he had first felt it.

Serana came back quickly, carrying several potions that he identified as his strongest potions. When she knelt in front of him, he tried to grab one. Brodith was rather annoyed when the vampire batted his hand away, although he paused when she gave him a disapproving frown.

"I can't heal any of your major injuries yet, and I have to make sure your arm will heal correctly."

Brodith winced. "This is going to hurt isn't it?"

The vampire nodded before grabbed his broken arm with unnatural speed. He barely had time to react before she forced it back into the proper position. His howl of pain could probably be heard from outside the crypt, but he managed to force it down after a few moments.

"Thanks." The bosmer said through gritted teeth. Serana didn't pay attention to him, just giving him a distracted nod while she pulled his leather helmet off. She examined the back of his head for a moment before picking up the potions.

"Alright," she said as she handed him one of the stronger potions, "I don't think that you're hurt too bad. Your skull isn't broken, anyways. You should be fine."

Brodith eagerly drank the powerful potion, and waited a minute for it to heal the rest of the damage. The pain receded quickly, and his broken arm was as good as new, if not a bit stiffer than normal. Serana helped him stand up, and he winced as he felt some of the lingering soreness.

"Thanks for that." The bosmer said once he was standing.

"It wasn't a problem." Serana smiled. "I guess we're even now. You got me out of here and I saved your life."

"Yeah," the bosmer said while looking around, "do you know what happened to my crossbow and sword? I've still got my dagger."

The vampire frowned and shook her head. "Sorry, but I didn't see them. I was too focused on killing that draugr."

"Fair enough," Brodith shrugged, "besides, they shouldn't be too hard to find. Steel stands out. I'll search for the crossbow. Hopefully you can find the sword."

They split off then; with Brodith slowly going back up the stairs to see if he had accidently dropped the crossbow and Serana searching the lower area for his sword. Brodith hoped that the weapons would be found in decent condition, or at least found. Any dents or damage to them could be fixed later, but he would prefer to find his weapons perfectly intact.

He had learned to love that crossbow the last few days, and the Skyforge sword had served him well, despite his appalling lack of skill with it compared to the foes he faced. There loss would be a terrible blow to him, as neither had been easily obtainable. The Dawnguard wouldn't give him another if he succumbed to vampirism, although he supposed he could kill one and take theirs if they attacked him. Brodith doubted the Companions would even let him join – he wasn't good in fair fights, and they would probably see him as too frail to succeed in their organization. Stealing another would be difficult, and he didn't want to gain their enmity should he be caught.

So he searched. He ignored the pain that the potions hadn't fully banished as he crawled on the ground in a desperate attempt to find his crossbow. Brodith quickly realized that it wasn't in this area and went back down the stairs. Serana had lit several of the braziers – presumably with magic – so he wasn't completely blind in his search.

The bosmer didn't search at the area he had been hurled into, instead searching the floor directly below the location he had been at before being knocked back. There wasn't much rubble, although there was a large mound of tightly packed dirt and rock. Brodith deemed it too close to the wall for the crossbow to have landed there, and searched by the stone pillar instead.

He couldn't see anything, as the darkness hadn't been driven away at that location. Another brazier was nearby, and so, not wanting to distract the vampire from her own search, he raised his hand. Silently praying for this to work, he focused on forming his magicka into a stream of flame that would ignite the brazier and allow him to search.

Instead of a crackling burst of flame like he had envisioned, a short, weak burst of bright sparks burst out of his outstretched hand. Although an incredibly pathetic feat of magic – a child could probably have done it more effectively – it worked. The brazier ignited, banishing the darkness from the area.

His eyes swept over the area near the pillar, and immediately lit up when they saw his crossbow. Brodith quickly rushed over to pick it up and painstakingly inspected it for damage. Somehow the crossbow had remained unscathed from the impact, and seemed to be perfectly functional.

Now that he had his favored weapon, he went over to see if Serana needed any assistance. As he turned around to walk over to her location, he saw a pair of glowing orange eyes staring back at him. Brodith jumped backwards and tried to ready his crossbow before he realized that it was just a laughing Serana.

"Don't worry," she said in between laughs, "I found your sword. You might need some repairs done, but it's functional."

"That wasn't funny!" Brodith hissed, silently trying to get his heart to slow down. "I nearly shot you with the crossbow."

She just laughed again before handing him his sword. He sent a glare before inspecting the blade. The pleasant surprise of the sword's condition – the worst was a miniscule dent at the very tip of the blade, something that even he could probably fix if given access to a forge – overrode his annoyance at the vampire's trick.

"Come on," he said once he was sure the sword was fine, "I want to get out of here. And," he sighed, "Could you please try to not scare me out of my wits again?"

"Of course," a smiling Serana said. "And I agree, let's get out of here. I've spent a long time in here, and I want to breathe again."

With that they set off. As they moved past the fallen, frozen remnants of the draugr that had nearly killed Brodith, he suddenly had a question.

"Serana, do you know what it was that that draugr hit me with? I've never seen anything like it in all of my expeditions into Nordic ruins."

"Oh, that?" The vampire responded, "That was the Voice, a form of magic that was common before I was sent here. I guess that it isn't so popular any more if you don't know about it."

Brodith frowned but kept walking. "I've heard rumors that Ulfric Stormcloak killed the late High King with the Voice, but I've never seen it myself. The Greybeards are said to be masters of it, although I don't really know much about them."

"They're still around?" Serana curiously asked from behind him. "The Greybeards had existed for a few centuries when I was still mortal. But you're right; they're masters of the Voice. I don't know how to use it, but I know it takes a long time to learn."

The bosmer shrugged. "I suppose I won't bother learning it then. I'm terrible at magic to begin with, so learning the Voice would take the rest of my life."

Serana laughed. "I saw you trying to light that brazier, so I definitely believe you. You should probably just stick with that crossbow of yours."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know that it was pathetic, so don't rub it in. I've accepted that shortcoming of mine."

They drew silent as they moved up a set of worn steps and moved into a large room. Brodith thought that it looked like some sort of amphitheater like the ones in the Imperial City, or possibly some sort of hall. He noticed that it had what looked like a bonfire down in the center, which meant that something was down there with them.

"Something's not right here." Serana whispered from behind him. "Be careful. I think we might be in for some trouble."

Brodith raised his crossbow and scanned the lit areas for enemies. He thought he could see the outline of a helmet rising above a chair and began to stealthily move closer. Serana waited behind. When he was closer, he lined up the shot with the helmet and released the bolt.

His bolt buried itself into the back of the helmet, and the bosmer grinned as he heard the familiar clatter of bones striking the ground. He crept back to Serana.

"Do you see anymore? The smoke is keeping me from seeing very well."

"There are three in the thrones over there," she said, pointing each of them out, "and I think I hear another one walking around. I could probably defeat the ones in the thrones with a good spell or two. I'm a bit out of practice, but it shouldn't be difficult."

"I'll get any stragglers."

Now that the plan was made, Brodith moved into position. He had his dagger ready to be put into use at a moment's notice, although he would probably be able to put down any skeletons or draugr with a well place bolt. But if he messed up badly, he would rather be prepared for a skeleton charging at him with a sword larger than he was.

He couldn't find the skeleton, but he knew it wasn't going to flank him or Serana. To avoid such an attempt, he had positioned his back towards a wall that had a good view of the entire area and that would allow him to keep Serana safe.

When the vampire pushed her hands outward towards the three thrones, unleashing a storm of ice and frozen air at the temporarily inert skeletons. As the magical storm went over the fire, his sharp eyes picked out three armored forms suddenly rising from their thrones, grasping for their weapons mere moments before the swirling ice impacted.

Even the eyes of a bosmer couldn't pick out what happened, but he did manage to see a skeleton raising a bow. He quickly aimed his crossbow and fired. The skeleton was practically destroyed as the magic holding its ancient bones together vanished, sending its individual parts scattering across the area.

He turned back to Serana and saw her dispatch another skeleton with a spike of ice. An armored skeleton was rushing towards her, and he carefully shot it, taking care to keep the shot away from the vampire. The bolt landed with a heavy thud on the skeleton's armor, and he became aware of the icy swirls of energy that served as its eyes locking onto him.

The skeleton raised its massive battleaxe, a monstrous weapon that looked to be enchanted with an ice power, and charged at Serana. Brodith shouted out a warning to the vampire before firing another bolt. It seemed to have just as little effect as the last one.

Serana wasted no time in turning to the skeleton and leaping out of its way. The skeleton lumbered towards her as she recovered, and raised its axe. He quickly reloaded his crossbow and fired again, this time hitting it in the side of its ancient armor.

It did even less than the others in terms of damage, but it managed to knock the skeleton off balance for a moment. Serana scrambled away a safe distance before it managed to recover, and by the time its creaking bones began to move it towards her she was more than ready for it.

Orbs of flickering flame erupted in her hands, and she thrust them towards the armored skeleton. Twin blasts of flame erupted from her palms, impacting the powerful skeleton with a mighty explosion.

The resulting burst of light hurt his eyes and forced him to look away for a moment. When his sharp gaze returned to the battle, he realized that it was over. Serana's spells had instantly destroyed the skeleton, overwhelming the magic that kept it moving and nearly melting through its armor.

There didn't seem to be anymore of the undead creatures, so Brodith moved back towards Serana. The vampire was looking at the enchanted battleaxe of their foe with interest, although she ended up leaving it.

Now that he was closer, Brodith could see the black scorch marks that stood out against the dull grey floor. Now that he could see what she could truly do, he was glad that he wasn't her enemy. Some of the skeleton's bones were melted together, and nearly all of them that weren't covered by armor were completely blackened.

"That was impressive." He remarked. "But I've never heard of a vampire using fire spells before, let alone one that powerful."

"They're…useful, in many circumstances." She answered lightly. "But I'm glad that I knew them, not many of my other spells would have done much damage to it."

Brodith nodded, but went over to check out the relatively unscathed battleaxe that glowed an icy blue. It clearly hadn't been damaged much. He picked it up, and found that it was still cold despite the inferno it had been exposed to.

Now that he could see it better, he found that it had a rather dull edge. It made sense, considering how old it had to be, so he supposed that most of its power came from the enchantment.

As much as he would have liked to bring it with him – ancient weapons like that one could fetch a good price, especially if they were enchanted – it was far too heavy for him to carry easily. Besides, it was almost as large as he was. Carrying it out of the crypt would be a hassle, let alone getting it somewhere he could sell it. Serana needed to return home as soon as possible, and he didn't want to make a stop in Solitude. He could very well have become a vampire by the time they got anywhere near the capital of Skyrim, and he would prefer to not be tempted by the vast supply of blood.

Serana had moved over to the thrones, presumably seeing if they had anything interesting on them. She probably just wanted a passable weapon, since experience had taught him that mages tended to run out of magicka fast in a fight.

He began to walk over to her, although he ended up stopping when he saw what was truly in the center of the amphitheater. Instead of some sort of bonfire as he'd first suspected, it was actually a grate of some sort, spewing out smoke from an unseen source. It was interesting, but not enough to distract him for long.

What did distract him, however, was the sound of male voices chanting. He had his dagger out in a flash and moved towards the source of the ominous chanting. It was some sort of wall, covered in strange etchings. He noticed that they had been neatly gouged into the stone, although he couldn't imagine what kind of being would have the strength to do it.

As he neared the curved wall, his vision began to darken and one of the strange symbols began to glow. He moved towards it, almost in a daze, and heard the chanting grow more powerful. A thin stream of energy seemed to latch onto him from it, and he could hear the chant rise to a climax.

His head felt as though it would split open as the energy suddenly strengthened. It pounded inside of him, burning raw information into his mind with a whirlwind of information and images.

Brodith gritted his teeth and dropped his dagger, giving up the weapon in favor of clutching his head. With one final burst of power, the images stopped. The pain abruptly cut off, and his mind was clearer than ever.

He suddenly became aware of something other than pain, and realized that he had fallen to the ground sometime during the experience. As he reached to pick up his dagger, something seemed to appear inside of his mind, resonating within his very being.

The symbol that had been glowing appeared in his vision, covering his entire line of sight with its burning aura. He suddenly understood the symbol and its meaning with every fiber of his being. It meant _stamina_, and although he didn't know what it could be used for it continued to burn its meaning into his mind.

When it finally withdrew from his mind, Brodith stood up on shaky legs. He sheathed the dagger he had been holding and laid a hand on his head, trying to calm the slight headache that had returned.

"What happened?" Serana asked worriedly from behind him.

"I…I don't know. One of those symbols glowed and connected to me somehow. Now I know what it means, I have a headache, and I'm very confused." Brodith turned his eyes to her. "Do you know what this is?"

Serana examined the wall closer for a moment, carefully running her hand over the glowing symbols, and answered. "I don't know what it is, but I think it has something to do with the ancient dragons. The Nords used to worship them, and this is one of their old ruins, so I suppose it makes sense. I'm sorry, but I don't really know. This is all just guesswork."

Brodith shrugged her apology off. "I don't think it really matters. Even if I know the word now, I still can't do anything with it. So, all in all, it doesn't affect me at all."

He looked around the massive room for a moment, taking only a few seconds to find the exit. Brodith clumsily started moving towards it, with the vampire following closely behind. As they pushed past a large door, the bosmer tried to start up a conversation.

"So, did you find anything interesting on those undead?"

"No," the vampire frowned, "just those Nordic swords and a few gold coins. I didn't bother picking them up."

Brodith didn't answer, as he could finally see a crevasse that would lead them out of the crypt. He walked up to the chain and pulled it, forcing the heavy gate to lift upwards. Serana practically rushed out of the crypt, desperate to see the world again.

He was slightly more restrained, although he was glad to be out of the dank and dark crypt. The bosmer walked out of the icy crevasse relatively easily, despite the fatigue that had built up throughout his excursion.

When he had finally left the crypt behind him for the cold, empty wastes of Skyrim, he saw that Serana was simply standing on the snowy slope, staring at the world.

"Ah, it's so good to breathe again!" She sighed. "Even in this weather, it's better than the cave."

Personally, Brodith had to disagree with that. Maybe it was because she was a vampire, and therefore practically immune to the cold, but it was much more unpleasant out here. At least the cave hadn't been freezing and snowing. His teeth were already chattering from the extreme cold, and he could tell that he wouldn't last long in this weather. In the span of just a few hours, the light snow had turned into what looked as though it were transforming into the blizzard.

"Serana," he said, "you might be able to survive in this weather, but I can't. We need to get moving and find shelter."

Realization washed over her face and she nodded. "Sorry, I forgot that you weren't a vampire."

"Give it a few days." He smiled. "Then I'll be able to keep up."

They stopped talking when the icy winds began to pick up even more, and even Serana looked as though it were starting to affect her. Their trek down the slope would have been easy had it not been in such terrible conditions. Now they were forced to go slow and make sure that they were in safe spots, as the fierce wind and slowly growing buildup of snow disrupted their journey.

When they finally reached the bottom, even Serana was having trouble with the cold. Brodith, on the other hand, felt as though he were completely frozen. It was only good planning that he wasn't half-dead by now from the water freezing on him.

The snow would have gotten his leather armor wet had he not spent a few hundred septims to have Farengar enchant it. The enchantment was well worth it, as it kept things that would make the armor practically ruined – such as water – from affecting it.

When the storm began to pick up even more, Brodith led Serana behind a rock so that he could talk to her while mostly protected from the storm. It didn't do that much, but any relief from the wind at all was worth taking.

"There's a fort around here somewhere!" He shouted over the howling wind, "I heard the Empire took it a week or two ago, so they should give us shelter."

"I can find it." Serana shouted back. Her eyes glowed for a moment with a light red aura before returning to their normal state. "Follow me."

Somehow, the vampire knew exactly where to go. The steadily strengthening storm didn't faze her, and she cut a straight line through the icy plain. Their only obstacles were a few dying shrubs that were easily moved around.

As the cold grew stronger, he focused entirely on Serana. He could barely feel his extremities, and he was sure that he was paler than a vampire by now. Brodith could tell that he wasn't thinking very well, and he sometimes stumbled before recovering.

Brodith eventually lost track of time, although he continued to focus as best he could on two things: Serana and the fort. The fort had to be close, but he wasn't sure if they had been walking for five minutes or an hour.

Eventually, he could make out some blurry, grey shape in front of them. He thought that Serana was saying something, but couldn't make out the words or who she was talking to. When he felt several pairs of hands grab him, he dully reached for his dagger. A warm hand caught his wrist and gently forced it down before the other hands began to drag him somewhere.

He wasn't sure what was happening, but he felt foreign warmth engulf his body, nearly searing him with the heat. His extremities were itching and had a slight burning sensation in them, something that irritated him to no end. Brodith felt himself being lain down upon a pleasantly soft surface that was much better than the small pad he normally slept on in the wilderness. As he was practically baked with heat, the bosmer became aware of some sort of horrible thirst rapidly growing inside of him. It couldn't force him to get up, but it tormented him as his tired mind healed.

After awhile of regaining his body heat and slowly returning to his normal mindset, he began to become aware of the world around him. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he didn't really care. Brodith was just glad that he hadn't died from the cold.

Bosmer weren't particularly adapted to temperature extremes, and the only races that dealt with the cold worse than they did were the khajiit and argonians. Altmer at least had spells to help them out, as did most other mer. Of course, most bosmer survived in the freezing land of Skyrim better than he due to spells as well. Had he not been so terrible at magic he would probably get into much less trouble in the wilderness.

Now that he was mostly better, he sat up. He could now see that he was on what looked to be a plain bed and was covered with a heavy fur that had the familiar orange glow of a heat enchantment. The room he was in had several rough looking barrels and crates inside of it, as well as several swords that were hanging on a weapon rack.

The room was made out of dull grey stone that he immediately recognized as the material of the modern forts around Skyrim. He turned his head only to see Serana leaning back in a chair, seemingly asleep.

Brodith pulled the thick fur down, allowing him to have slightly better mobility. The air helped to cool off his body, and slightly lessened the itching and burning in his fingers. Now he just needed to know how long he'd been frozen, as well as how long they would have to wait out the storm. Even if they were better prepared, just a few miles had nearly killed them so he wasn't optimistic of their chances in what was sure to be a blizzard by now.

"Serana." He said; wincing as the vibrations seemed to make his thirst worse. The vampire awoke with an annoyed expression on her face, although it quickly morphed into relief. She handed him a small jug of water, as well as a loaf of slightly stale bread. It didn't matter to him, as he ravenously tore into the bread and drank the water while Serana began to speak.

"Thank the gods," she exclaimed, "we all thought you were going to die! It's a miracle that you survived that long in the storm to begin with."

"So am I," he admitted. "But I did. So how long was I out?"

"Half a day."

"Really?" He asked. "It felt like an eternity."

Serana shrugged. "The storm is about to end. The soldiers here said that storms like that are common in this area of Skyrim, although that one was a bit stronger than most. We can leave when you're ready."

Brodith nodded. Then he realized that the intense thirst hadn't vanished. Curious, he decided to question Serana about it. Perhaps it was a part of the transformation.

"By the way," he asked, "do you know why I'm so thirsty? That water didn't help at all."

"It's part of the…process." She admitted. "The thirst should vanish at dawn, but will return tomorrow night."

The bosmer glanced towards the door at the opposite side of the room for a moment, ensuring that it was closed. He turned his gaze back to Serana. "Did you ask if they had anything that could cure diseases?"

She shook her head. "They said they didn't get those kinds of potions, and even if they did we couldn't pay them enough to buy them. Only other members of the Legion get access to them, and anyone who sells them would be punished."

"Damn. That means my luck is probably out." Brodith said forlornly. "I suppose it won't be too bad, though."

"It's not as bad as you think."

Brodith shrugged, accepting her answer. He would see if it was true soon enough.

"We should get out of here. Do you have something to protect yourself from the sun?"

"Yes. I took a hood out of a pile of vampire dust. It will keep the worst of the sun's effects away."

The bosmer nodded in understanding. "We should probably come up with a plan. Get me the map from my bag; we have a lot to do."


	2. Chapter 2: The Volhikar

They bid the legionnaires goodbye the next morning. The soldiers had been rather hospitable to them, despite not gaining anything in return for that hospitality. Brodith suspected it had to do with Serana, since he doubted any of them had seen a woman in quite awhile.

The duo began their trek across the plains, circling around the mountain they had first emerged from. Brodith was simply glad that the insatiable thirst had vanished, replaced with the familiar desire for water. They made good time, reaching the road that would lead them to their destination in just under an hour.

Overall, the journey was even more boring than his trip from Fort Dawnguard to the crypt. The worst they encountered were three idiotic bandits pretending to be legionnaires. They easily dispatched them, a crossbow bolt landing in ones chest the moment he asked for a toll. Serana speared the other two with ice spikes. He was somewhat disappointed when he discovered they had little of value on them. They either had a base somewhere nearby where they stored their loot or they had just started their operation.

After taking the dead bandits' gold, they continued on. The first day was completely uneventful except for the bandits, and Brodith prayed for that rare peace to continue. His travels seemed to attract all manners of foe, be it bandit or beast, and this was a lucky occurrence.

It wasn't until the second day that things grew more complicated. They had passed few travelers, and none had had anything able to cure him. The vampire disease weakened him immensely, and their pace neared to a crawl as the day drew on.

By the time night had fallen, they had found a relatively safe place for him to turn. It was a small, hidden cave just a few miles from Solitude that looked as though it had once belonged to smugglers. Small crates full of broken glass and degraded leather goods practically filled the room, leaving just a small area for him.

He felt a strong degree of anticipation and light terror as the exhaustion transformed into a dull, throbbing pain. It never grew very intense, but he could feel it growing slightly stronger each passing minute.

Serana had left, probably to find him something to feed on. Suddenly, it spiked. He hissed in pain as his body rapidly changed. His mouth was forced slightly open as fangs erupted from his canines, slashing through a small part of his bottom lip. Brodith could see that his skin had become paler as the last of the blood that had been slowly draining from it disappeared.

His senses had spiked. Not by very much, but he could see that his vision was just a bit clearer, his nose and ears slightly more sensitive. The shadows that had previously hidden things from his sight had seemingly vanished, leaving nothing but clear air.

Then the thirst hit. It was just as intense as it had been these last few nights, so he wasn't too worried about losing control and trying to kill anything. But he didn't want to spend an entire night like this, desperate for blood and with no one to distract him, especially now that he had the tools to quench the thirst.

For what seemed like an eternity he sat against a hard dirt wall, left with nothing but the yearning for hot blood dripping into his mouth. He was sure he would be a terrifying sight for any normal person that walked in, with his new hellishly orange eyes and sharp fangs bared in a snarl.

Finally, someone came in. He could _feel_ that it was food; he could practically taste the blood that was pumping beneath the mortal's skin.

Before he lost control and attacked the newcomer, he felt something else walk in. Whoever it was felt old – ancient beyond anything he could imagine – and powerful, although the aspect that forced his calm was the age. As he expected, Serana walked in behind a brutish looking Nord. Although his new instincts urged him to pay attention to Serana – _creator_, his mind whispered, although he quashed that thought immediately, knowing it to be false – first, he disregarded them to look at his food.

The Nord was clearly enthralled, Brodith easily recognizing the signs from one of the books the Dawnguard had given him. Her brown eyes were glazed over, and she constantly tried to turn her head to Serana to give the vampire a look of adoration.

Brodith sneered at his meal, absentmindedly licking his fangs as he heard the blood pounding in the Nord's body. The elder vampire stepped back, and his instincts roared at him to feed upon the Nord. Overpowered with the desire for nourishment to slake the terrible thirst, he let his new instincts guide him as he leapt at his prey with terrible ferocity.

He didn't think for himself. The baser thoughts common to all vampires took control and directed him, leaving his vision covered in a red haze as he tore into the thrall's neck. His sharp fangs easily slid into the Nord's soft skin before he brutally tore them out. He ignored the scream from his food, instead latching onto the large wound and drinking deeply.

The bosmer couldn't tell how long he drank, but when his thirst was finally quenched the thrall was pale and lifeless. Now that his instincts had receded, he finally realized what he had done. He was no stranger to murder – the Imperial City Waterfront was just as poor and crime-ridden as ever when he was growing up – but he had never committed it himself. Brodith looked down at the dead woman in horror, and then at his own hands that were stained with her blood.

He stood up on shaking legs, still eying his hands with disgust. Brodith was disgusted with himself, coming up with a myriad of ways this could have gone better. They should have made their way straight to Morthal, no matter if it could have slowed their journey! That part of him that had been pleased at the prospect of the change – it meant more strength, more _power_; a better prospect of overcoming any of the foes Skyrim could throw at him – was quashed by the overwhelming disgust he held at himself. A bit of additional power wasn't worth doing this every few days.

His introspection was broken by a comforting hand on his shoulder. Brodith tensed, but slowly relaxed. Anything that could break him out of that distressing train of thought was welcome.

"You won't kill again." Serana said. "The first time is just…wild. It's not your fault that your instincts were too strong, this is something almost every vampire goes through. The first feeding is one of the only times you'll have no control."

Brodith nodded, but picked up on something she said.

"What do you mean 'something almost every vampire has to go through'?" He asked curiously. "Is there a way to avoid it?"

"There's a potion," she said, "but I don't know the formula. Even if I did, it's likely that some of the ingredients are gone."

"It's alright," Brodith sighed. "I just don't want to do this again. I'm many things, but until today I couldn't count murderer amongst them."

Serana didn't say anything for awhile, but moved to a crate in front of him and sat down. When she did speak, it was in a very curious tone.

"How does it feel?"

Brodith shrugged. "I can feel that I'm just a bit better in many areas. My eyes can see through shadows like they aren't even there, and I'm definitely a bit stronger and faster, but it's not as dramatic as I thought it would be."

"The Cyrodiilic vampires are the ones that get stronger – we just get an edge. But we have a few more abilities that they don't have, so we're mostly even." She said. "Of course, as you get older you'll notice that you get stronger. If you go awhile without feeding you'll notice the same change, although you'll look like a monster."

"That reminds me," the bosmer said as he looked up at Serana, "how have you survived these past few days without feeding? I've never seen you do it, and you'd been locked in that monolith for a few thousand years. By all right you should be more bloodthirsty than I was."

Serana looked uncomfortable by the question. "Let's just say that you'll learn more about it when we get to my home. If we hurry, we should be able to make it tomorrow."

The bosmer frowned but didn't push it. She had saved his life several times over by now, and he wasn't going to try to force her into answering something she clearly didn't want to. Instead, he decided to question the older vampire on any other powers he might have.

Who knew, perhaps he might discover that he would actually be able to use magic without it either backfiring or fizzling out.

Xx

It turned out that being a vampire didn't give him any more talent with magic, something he'd discovered when Serana tried to have him cast a flames spell outside the cave. In fact, it seemed to have even less of an effect than before.

Serana thought that he would be able to use the natural powers of the vampire perfectly, however. He proved her hypothesis that was proved when he managed to reanimate the body of his victim. Any of the leftover disgust he felt at himself for killing the woman was overwhelmed by his euphoria at actually performing an act of magic. The undead woman eventually collapsed into dust, thus preventing any need for a cleanup.

Since Brodith had fed and wouldn't be badly affected by the sun, they returned to their journey. The bosmer learned to appreciate his new resistance to the cold, even if he would have preferred to have been cured of his vampirism. Skyrim's freezing tundra no longer slowly weakened him, and his only difficulties in crossing it and the mountains was the piercing wind.

They soon ventured into areas Brodith had never been to before, and he had to rely on Serana for the most part and the map for when the landscape had changed too much. Overall, she seemed to recognize most of these areas and cut through the landscape with ease, finally bringing them out into a relatively flat area of Skyrim. Brodith could see the churning, cold waves of the Sea of Ghosts crashing onto the shore, and he felt no desire at all to sail through them.

There was also a fort that stood starkly against the dull landscape, and he as they drew nearer to it he thought that he could see the golden armor of the Thalmor on the guards patrolling its sides. His lip curled up in a sneer, exposing his fangs. Nearly everyone in the Empire despised the Aldmeri Dominion and their agents the Thalmor, and those that didn't were generally lining their pockets with the Thalmor's gold.

And considering how poor he had been before coming to Skyrim, they certainly hadn't been lining his pockets. So, like every good citizen, he had a strong desire to plunge a dagger into their throats. Unfortunately, he couldn't do that. Instead he warned Serana of their hostility and travelled a long way around the fort just to be safe.

Not long after they had avoided the Thalmor, they drew close to the shoreline. They were forced to stand back, lest the waves crash into them, but Serana didn't mind. She seemed to be searching for something, and eventually found it. As some of the sea's mist moved away, Brodith thought he could see the hazy outline of a castle.

"That's it, out there to the north. We used to keep a boat around here to get there and back." Serana remarked. Brodith looked at the sea dubiously, doubting that any boat would be capable of easily traversing the wild waters.

"You used a boat?" He asked incredulously. She distractedly nodded as she walked off to one of the thin outstretches of land. The older vampire looked around in one of the clumps of shrubs before waving him over.

Brodith looked down and saw that her discovery was an old, fragile looking boat. She was already stepping into the back of it, grabbing a pair of the oars that had been left inside of it. Having grown up around the countless ships that arrived and left the Waterfront daily, he wasn't impressed with it.

"I'm not getting in that." He said resolutely, eying both the sea and the boat with a critical eye. Brodith compared them and didn't find the chances of the small boat surviving the powerful waves satisfactory.

Serana rolled her eyes. "Get in. I promise it's safe."

The bosmer wasn't sure he trusted those words, but relented. Besides, even if the boat did capsize he was a vampire now. He would possibly be able to get out of the water since it wouldn't freeze him to death the moment he fell in.

So, still frowning, Brodith gingerly stepped into the rickety boat. He sat down in front of Serana and grabbed the other pair of oars. They weren't soft and rotting, at least, so they had to be in reasonably good condition. He still didn't like the boat, but at least their method of movement wouldn't snap in the middle of their journey.

When both of them were ready, they began to row. It was slow and difficult, but he found himself able to do it without being exhausted. The boat seemed to easily ride the waves, and very little water managed to get into the vessel.

When they finally reached a similarly rickety pier on the debris covered beach of the island, Brodith wasted no time in tying the boat to it and getting out. It hadn't been as terrible as he'd expected, but he wasn't thrilled about having to ride the boat back. He helped Serana out, and as she regained her balance he looked at his surroundings.

The air was cold and salty, although that was to be expected in this area. A massive stone watchtower was to his right, surrounded by protruding stone. The left side of his vision was obscured by even more rocks, although he could see that there was a slight opening that led to a hill. Dark birds flew in the grey sky, seemingly unaffected by the powerful winds. In front of him was a large bridge that led to a massive, ancient looking castle. It looked much larger than the hazy outline he had seen before suggested, and he had to admit that the castle was more impressive than any structure he'd seen since arriving in Skyrim.

He turned to Serana. "This is your home?"

"Yes," she said with a smile on her lips, "home sweet…castle."

"Why didn't you tell me it was so huge?" The bosmer asked as he continued to look at the castle with wide eyes.

"I didn't want you to think I was one of those…you know, the women who sit in their castles all day? I don't know." she admitted, "Coming from a place like this; well…it's not really me. I hope you can believe that."

"Serana," he said as he turned to her, "you've saved my life several times and I've seen you casually defeating creatures I would be easily beaten by. Trust me, I'm not about to think that of you."

She smiled. "Thanks, that means a lot."

Brodith nodded in return and began to make his way to the bridge. He noticed the inert gargoyles that lined the sides of the bridge and looked to Serana questioningly.

"Don't worry; they won't attack unless the castle is under threat. We're fine."

He nodded, although he still wasn't at ease with the monsters. They continued to walk across the bridge, although Serana pulled him aside when they neared the thick iron gate.

"Hey, so…before we go in there…"

"Are you all right?"

"I think so. And thanks for asking. I just wanted to thank you for getting me this far. But after we get in there, I'm going to go my own way for a while. I think." She muttered as an afterthought. "I just need to be alone for a while. There's a lot of feelings wrapped up in this old place, and I don't think you're quite ready for them. So let me take the lead in there."

"Alright," Brodith nodded, "lead the way."

Serana walked up to the gate. The watchman, who didn't seem to be the same sort of vampire as he and Serana, tried to warn them off.

"Go on, get out of here!" He growled. Then his eyes seemed to take in Serana and he apologized before saying, "After all these years Lady Serana's back. Now that's something."

She nodded at the watchman before passing him. As Brodith followed her, the watchman grabbed his arm. Brodith did nothing but wrenched his arm out of the man's grip before moving on. The watchman gave him a word of advice as he passed by.

"Lord Harkon's a great man. Best show him the proper respect." The vampire warned before moving forwards to get the door for them.

Brodith nodded his understanding of the advice before following Serana through the massive wooden doors, pausing for a moment as the overwhelming scent of blood greeted him. He licked his fangs as his instincts suddenly surged, but a look from Serana brought him back to reality.

There was a tall altmer standing in the entranceway. Beyond him Brodith could see a large stone hall that glowed with dim lights.

"How dare you trespass here!" Snarled the altmer vampire at them. As his eyes reached Serana, they widened in awe. "Wait…Serana? Is that truly you? I cannot believe my eyes!"

The altmer turned around before either of them could say something and walked into the hall.

"My lord!" He shouted in excitement, "Everyone! Serana has returned!"

"I guess I'm expected." Serana commented drily. He noticed that she had a nervous hand on the strange artifact she had on her back. When she caught his gaze she quickly removed it and motioned for him to follow her.

They entered the great hall, and the sight made Brodith's eyes widen. The scent of blood grew even stronger, and he could finally see why. Many vampires – all of them ancient, though none of them exuded the same aura of age as Serana – feasted on groaning thrall's at the long tables. Dismembered pieces of corpses were in plates and buckets, some of the bloody bones picked clean.

The cannibalism made his nose wrinkle in displeasure – he'd never subscribed to _that _element of his people's culture – but the sheer amount of the blood they were gorging upon made his instincts cry out in envy. As they stepped down the stairs and came to the middle of the hall, with him flanking Serana's right side, he became aware of the old vampires staring at them.

He noticed that all of their attention was focused upon Serana, and he silently wished he could draw his crossbow without being killed. The vampires' fierce, attentive gazes made the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge, despite the fact that only a few had even bothered to glance at him.

Then his eyes rested upon a figure that was leisurely getting out of its throne at a large, nearly empty table at the back of the room. The vampire moved with the grace of a saber cat as he stood up and walked in front of his table. One of the two death hounds he had seen walked by his right side, snarling at the unfamiliar scents.

The vampire widened his arms and spoke in a powerful voice with an aristocratic accent. Brodith didn't know what it was about the man, but he felt a strong desire to submit to him completely and follow any command he might give. He shook off the desire, but he could still feel it in the back of his head.

"My long-lost daughter returns at last." He said. His glowing eyes locked onto the artifact on Serana's back. "I trust you have my Elder Scroll?"

Brodith's eyes widened in surprise – even he knew about the Elder Scrolls, although he had never been exposed to their lore – as he heard what the strange artifact was. He paid closer attention to the conversation and ignored the interested glances the vampires sent each other.

"After all these years, that's the first thing you ask me?" Serana retorted. "Yes," she sighed, "I have the scroll."

The vampire drew nearer, and although he ignored Brodith, the bosmer could feel the power the man possessed. He had the same aura of age as Serana did, but he felt more powerful somehow.

"Of course I'm delighted to see you, my daughter." He drawled. "Must I really say the words aloud?"

Brodith raised an eyebrow at the man's flippant tone. Anyone could tell the words were hardly sincere, but something about them made the man feel _wrong_ in a way he couldn't truly describe. It wasn't even about the lack of concern for his daughter, but just an overall feeling of danger the man possessed. His attention turned back to the powerful vampire as he continued.

"Ah, if only your traitor mother were here," he mused, "I would let her watch this reunion before putting her head on a spike."

From the tensing of Serana's shoulders, this wasn't a subject she seemed to enjoy. He could see a look of barely concealed delight in the man's eyes as he watched his daughter's unease. Then the man's glowing eyes glanced over to him, narrowing as the vampire took in his features.

"Now tell me, who is this stranger you have brought into our hall?" The man asked in a dangerous tone.

"This is my savior, the one who freed me." Serana's tone was just as dangerous, and it was something he had never expected to hear from the friendly vampire. Brodith thought she was overstating his importance – the other vampires were about to free her as well, and had done most of the work for him – but didn't protest it. The man's eyes met his, and every one of his instincts screamed at him to look away. It was difficult, but he managed to meet the man's gaze.

"For my daughter's safe return," he said, "you have my gratitude. Tell me, what is your name?"

"I'm Brodith. Who are you?" He asked; still staring into the other vampire's burning gaze. The older vampire smiled in light amusement before answering.

"I am Harkon," he announced regally, "lord of this court. By now, my daughter will have told you what we are."

"You're vampires."

"Not just vampires!" Harkon hissed, seemingly taking offense at the word. "We are amongst the oldest and most powerful vampires in all of Skyrim." The vampire began to pace in front of him, clenching his hands as he continued speaking. A note of bitterness entered his voice.

"For centuries we lived here, far from the cares of the world." The bitterness changed into hatred as he spoke. "All that ended when my wife betrayed me and stole away that which I valued most."

"What happens now?" Brodith asked, not sure if it was the right question. He managed to keep the hesitancy out of his voice, even under the interested gazes of most of the vampires in the court.

Harkon smiled, baring just a hint of his fangs. "You have done me a great service, and now you must be rewarded. There is but one gift I can give that is equal in value to the Elder Scroll and my daughter."

"I offer you my blood," he announced. From the intake of breath around him, Brodith judged that this was a great gift. "Take it, and you will walk as a lion among sheep. Men will tremble at your approach, and you will never fear death again."

"I am already a vampire," Brodith said, "what more can you give me?"

Snorts of amusement were heard from around the hall. Harkon looked at him with a mixture of similar amusement and annoyance.

"You have contracted a disease, perhaps." He said condescendingly. "But you are no true vampire. My blood is the only true vampire blood."

Brodith unconsciously hissed in annoyance, amusing the powerful vampire even more.

"Perhaps you still need convincing?" Harkon said with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Behold the power!"

The lord's form hunched over and his form began to be covered with a mist of blood that coalesced around him. Even as Brodith unintentionally stepped backwards, he forced his arms outward and blood exploded from his body.

He was no longer Harkon, but a tall, pale creature with tattered, bony wings, and a bestial, snarling face. Brodith could feel the pure power and authority it possessed, and his eyes were glued to the beast that stood before him.

"This is the power that I offer!" Harkon declared into his mind. "Now, make your choice!"

Brodith looked at it with wide eyes, realizing just how limited and fragile he was compared to Harkon. His vampirism was weak, just a disease as the vampire lord had said. This form would make him powerful, indomitable. Even dragons would quake before the power this form held.

He tried to turn to Serana and see what her reaction was, but he found that he couldn't move his eyes from Harkon. Without any knowledge of her opinion, he acted. His silent desire for improvement and power would let him give no other answer.

"I will accept your gift and become a true vampire," he spoke, the words coming unbidden from his mouth. Harkon's monstrous form smiled, showing off fangs that could tear into a mammoth with little difficulty.

"Be still." He hissed into his mind. Brodith had no time to react before Harkon lunged at him, wrapping the bosmer in his suddenly larger wings and biting into his neck. The sheer agony of it forced the bosmer to black out, his body being caught by the tattered wings was the last sensation he felt.

Xx

The bosmer awoke in a dark, stone room. He could hear blood pounding from behind him, but a strange altar that dripped blood was more interesting. His vision suddenly became clear again, and he realized that he was somehow standing up.

Now he could see Harkon standing before him, next to the strange altar. Just seeing the vampire – _creator_, his mind whispered again, this time knowing it to be true – made him want to submit to him, although the desire was weaker than when he had been but a normal vampire.

"Awake at last," the vampire said lazily, "good. The power is growing within you, and now you must learn to wield it."

Brodith asked no questions, too enthralled with the thought of commanding the power that he could feel burning within his blood to worry about them.

"I'm ready to learn about my new powers."

"With my guidance you will become a deadly instrument, striking terror in the hearts of mortals wherever you tread. Now, listen to my words and do as I instruct."

Harkon walked towards him until he was a scant few feet away. "The true power of the ancient blood is found in the form of the Vampire Lord." He said. His voice took on a commanding tone. "Assume the mantle of the Vampire Lord, and we will continue."

Brodith instinctually knew what to do. He felt the burning in his blood and grasped it, forcing it to engulf his body with its strength. Immediately the blood began to burn even more intensely, and he found himself mimicking the transformation Harkon had shown him before he was turned. When he felt that it was nearly over, he forced his arms outward and overcame the barrier of blood that covered him.

When he did so the barrier exploded around him, painting his surroundings with blood. He idly noted that the stone seemed to absorb it, leaving no trace. Brodith then realized just how powerful he felt.

He was levitating several inches above the ground, and he could feel his blood burning with his new, terrible power. A strength he had never felt before coiled in his muscles, and he felt as though he were invincible. However his senses had been strengthened before, when he had changed into a lesser vampire, they were magnified now. Brodith's pointed, curved ears could hear everything, and his sight allowed him to see the smallest of details.

Overall, he felt as though he were invulnerable, a creature so beyond the lesser beings that they could not even imagine it. Harkon distracted him from his thoughts with a cough, and even now he felt the slightest urge to obey the other vampire.

"In this form," he continued as he paced in front of the altar, "you can drain the life from your foes with your right hand. With your left hand, you can wield the power of blood magic to raise the dead. You can also call upon the powers of night to turn into a swarm of bats and reappear some distance away. Should you run out of magicka, you can descend to the ground and fight as the beasts do."

"Do so now and we will continue." Harkon commanded. The words urged him to submit, and, wanting to test the full extent of this form's abilities, he did so. His body gracefully landed on the ground, and he felt himself hunch over into what he recognized as an ideal combat position.

Harkon smiled. "Good. You are weaker while on the ground, because you cannot access the blood magic. However, the night powers are still yours to command, and your claws are still formidable weapons. Over time, your powers will grow in strength and you will find new ways to use your gifts. There is much to learn, but if you master the powers of the Vampire Lord, few enemies will be able to stand against you."

That was certainly something Brodith could believe as he felt the pure power this form possessed. Even while untrained and lacking experience, he felt as though he could easily destroy an entire village in mere minutes. Suddenly, he could hear the blood pounding in the mortal he had previously dismissed.

He turned to the mortal – a human woman, he could see now – and bared his fangs in anticipation. As he stalked over to her, he could hear Harkon's amused voice from behind him.

"There is one last thing you must know. Slaying mortal men with your life drain grants you new night powers and blood magic." His amusement shifted into disgust, and a sneer graced his face. "I keep a stable of thralls in the castle should you need to feed like the baser vampires to stave off the sun."

"That is all I have to teach you. If you wish to be reminded of these lessons, you need only ask. I have a task that will test your new powers, but first, do you have any questions?"

Brodith paused as he grew nearer to the enthralled mortal, his mind flickering back to the strange altar.

"What is this place?" He asked, somehow transmitting his thoughts into the world.

"A shrine to Molag Bal, the mighty Daedra Prince who is father to all our kind." He said with reverence. "Our power is a blessing from him. It is he who first bestowed the gift of the ancient blood upon me."

The new Vampire Lord's cruel eyes widened as he realized the implications. It was no wonder he possessed such power, even had he not been slowly strengthened by his age he would still have the touch of a Prince upon him.

"You made a pact with Molag Bal?" He asked, silently wondering what horrific deed Harkon must have committed to gain the gift. Nothing else would satisfy the Prince of Rape.

"In an age long forgotten to history, I ruled as a mighty king." The vampire began, his burning eyes looking past Brodith with a faraway look in them. "My domain was vast, my riches undless and my power infinite. And yet, as my mortal life neared an end, I faced a seemingly invincible enemy – my own mortality. I pledge myself to Molag Bal, and in his name I sacrificed a thousand innocents."

Brodith's eyes narrowed in both disgust and reverence for Harkon's ruthlessness, his new, more powerful instincts impressed with the brutality. Harkon seemed to be too lost in his nostalgia to notice.

"In reward, he gave everlasting life to myself, my wife and my daughter. And so I have defeated mortality itself." He said grandiosely. His eyes lost their faraway look and met Brodith's.

"Are you ready for your task?"

The bosmer nodded.

"Good. Go and speak to Garen Marethi. Tell him it is time. He will understand." The vampire finished ominously. "Now, leave me."

Brodith nodded and began to levitate again. As he floated past the enthralled woman, he idly drained her life away from her. His blood burned intensely for a moment before settling again, leaving him with just a bit more power.

As he left, he instinctually reverted to his true form. He paused and looked back at Harkon. The elder vampire was kneeling before the altar, mumbling some words that he couldn't hear. Brodith shrugged and moved on, hoping to find Serana somewhere in this castle.

The dark atmosphere of the altar room vanished as he moved down the stairs, transforming into the dim lighting of the great hall. Several vampires bowed their heads to him as he passed, feeling his barely constrained power that was swimming in his blood.

He was pleased with their submission, although he felt the slight hint of revulsion below it. Something just felt wrong about these vampires submitting to him, although he could not figure out why. They should be prostrating before him, begging to serve the paragon of their kind in any way they could.

Brodith snarled at the next vampire he saw, barely realizing what he was doing. The lesser vampire scurried away, and he could smell that the man was likely to be one of the youngest at this castle. He lacked the ancient feeling most of the beings in this castle had.

After a while of wandering aimlessly around the castle, he found Serana in one of the numerous empty rooms. It was surprisingly well-maintained, and had a large bookshelf with tomes on magic and various other subjects. He wasn't particularly inclined to reading, finding much more value in practical experience, but he supposed that different people had different tastes.

Even before he'd stepped in, Serana had detected him. Her face brightened when she saw him and she put away the book she was reading to welcome him in.

"I'm glad you're alright." The vampire said with a relieved smile. "Not many beings can survive the transformation you've gone through."

"I feel better than ever," he shrugged before sitting down on a comfortable chair next to her. "But how long was I out?"

"Not long." She replied. "Just a few hours, which is faster than any of us expected. How are you feeling?"

He didn't reply for a moment, wondering just how to answer that simple question that invited complex answers. To be honest, he felt great. Still, there was a niggling feeling inside of him that made him feel as though something were wrong.

"I don't know." Brodith confessed. "I feel great, and I feel powerful. But something doesn't feel right? It's like there's something that's not me in here."

Serana looked thoughtful.

"I'll try and figure out what it is." She promised. "I don't remember anything like that after my transformation."

"Thanks. Do you know where I could find Garan Marethi?"

Realization dawned on Serana's face. "My father gave you a mission already, didn't he?"

The bosmer nodded. "I suppose that he's your father's lieutenant?"

"Has been since before I was put in the crypt. Some things never change. Anyways, he should be in the great hall. You should get going," she warned, "my father isn't a patient man."

Brodith's lips curved upwards. "I think I've noticed. Goodbye, I suppose I'll be back in a few days."

Serana waved him off and wished him luck, and also gave him his bag back. He heard her picking up her book as he left to find Garan. As she suggested, Brodith checked the great hall. The bosmer looked around for the dark elf and found him sitting in the corner on a bench, drawn into a thick book.

He moved over to the dark elf, ignoring a pair of squabbling vampires that were standing in the way. Brodith brushed past them, ignoring their hisses of annoyance, and cleared his throat when he grew near to Garan. The dark elf glared up at him, quickly closing the book.

"Yes," he asked impatiently, "what is it?"

"I have a message from Harkon." He retorted. Garan tensed and continued to glare at him.

"Lord Harkon." The irritated elf growled. "You would do well to remember your place. Now, what is our Lord's wish?"

"He simply said "It is time."

A grin split Garan's face. "Well, well. He wants the Chalice, then. You've heard of the Bloodstone Chalice?"

"I've never heard of it." The bosmer answered honestly. He silently wondered why he felt no annoyance at the dunmer for being so cross with him, but perhaps it was because he was actually important in the castle, unlike the others he had crossed.

"It is a rather well-kept secret." Garan admitted. "The Chalice has been in Lord Harkon's possession for quite some time now. It is, when used properly, able to increase the potency of our powers."

Brodith's eyes flickered with interest. He couldn't imagine feeling more powerful, not when a single spell was enough to suck the life out of a human. Anything more was as unimaginable to him as the strength of the Vampire Lord was to him before.

"He has neglected using it for ages. If he wants it filled now, then grander things are afoot. This is good." The dunmer grinned. "Follow me, I'll take you to it."

As he followed the dark elf, Garen explained the situation to him.

"Lord Harkon has never cared to use the Chalice, relying on his more than adequate powers until now. This is an intriguing change."

Garan eventually ran into the two bickering vampires Brodith had run into before. The dunmer's face twitched in annoyance before he spoke. "Excuse us. I need to fetch the Bloodstone Chalice."

The two vampires ceased their argument before turning to them with wide eyes.

"The Chalice?" The altmer that he remembered had announced Serana's arrival asked in confusion. "Why?"

"What're you up to, Garan?" The Nord vampire growled.

Garan rolled his eyes. "Lord Harkon's orders, Orthjolf. Calm yourself. Our friend here," he motioned to Brodith, "has been ordered to fill the Chalice.

The human backed down, although his eyes flickered to Brodith with both envy and dislike.

"Really?" Asked the altmer incredulously.

"Indeed." Garan said. "He's off to Redwater Den."

"Well, then…Best of luck to you." Orthjolf smirked. Brodith frowned as he followed Garan into a small side chamber. Before they had reached it the two vampires had already begun to argue again.

When the dunmer saw Brodith turn his head to look at the two again he explained.

"Vingalmo and Orthjolf are Lord Harkon's primary advisors." He smirked. "I'm sure they're quite surprised to learn that it is you that is taking the Chalice."

Brodith ignored the hidden warning in the dark elf's words. They arrived in the chamber, and he saw a large metal chalice that was covered with spikes.

"Now, this Chalice needs to be filled directly from the bloodspring that is the source of Redwater Den. But that's not enough. Once that's done, the blood of a powerful vampire needs to be added to it. Keep in mind that Redwater Den has fallen into… well, let's just say less reputable members of society now dwell there."

He frowned, not wanting to test his new powers against vampires. Although he wasn't sure if they would give him more power or not, he found that he wanted to see just what his new form could do to mortals. Despite his annoyance, he listened to Garan as the dunmer resumed speaking.

"It's your choice whether to attempt to deal with them or force your way through. Hurry back. You don't want to keep Lord Harkon waiting." Garan warned. "I suggest you leave for Redwater Den as soon as possible. It has been marked on the map we put in your bag. By the way, the watchman will get you to the shore."

Brodith nodded his understanding and left the Chalice's room behind. As he turned to leave, the sound of hammering from a room not far away reminded him of an issue that he needed to fix. He withdrew his sword, something that didn't bother the vampires around him in the least.

The bosmer examined the blade to see if they had somehow fixed it in the hours he had been unconscious. As he'd expected, however, it still possessed the dent at the tip. He sheathed the Skyforge blade and made his way to the room where he had heard the unmistakable sounds of a forge.

He went in and easily found the blacksmith. She was a Nord, and smiled up at him as he walked over. Brodith wasted no time, wanting to complete his task as soon as possible.

"I need you to do a small repair for me. It's nothing difficult, just a small dent." He withdrew the blade and showed it to the vampire, whose eyes widened as she took in the sight of the blade.

"This is Skyforge steel! I haven't seen this since I was in the Companions!"

"You were in the Companions?" The bosmer asked.

She distractedly nodded as she took the sword from his hands. "A long time ago. Anyways, I can fix this the moment I'm done with Lord Harkon's request. Are you going to be here for the next day or so?"

He shook his head. "I'm going on a mission for Lord Harkon, but I should be gone for a few days. Will it be done by the time I get back?"

"Definitely." The Nord said as she examined the weapon. "It won't take very long, so I might be able to slip it in with Lord Harkon's order."

Brodith nodded his thanks and left. He probably wouldn't be using his sword on this mission anyways. The urge to unleash the full potential of his new form was just too appealing. The bosmer left the warmth and alluring scent of the castle behind, and ventured out into the cold of Skyrim.

His resistance to cold had grown even stronger, correlating with his increase in power. He hardly noticed it anymore, and the weather had calmed enough that there weren't any noticeable winds. The worst aspect of the weather around Volkihar Castle at the moment was the thick fog, although his improved vision let him see through it slightly better than he had before.

The large stone bridge was still slick from ice and snow, but it didn't bother him. He reached the other side with little difficulty and found that the watchman had already made his way to the boat. Now that the waves were no longer pounding onto the shore with enough force to crush a man to the ground he put slightly more faith into the decrepit vessel.

"Hello," the lesser vampire said to him, bowing his head submissively as he spotted Brodith, "I suppose you need to be taken back to shore? If so, you picked a good time. The weather hasn't been this calm in weeks."

"Do you require my assistance?" He asked as he stepped into the boat. The watchman shook his head.

"I've been ferrying this boat for longer than you've been alive. And in this calm of weather I'll barely have to pay attention."

Brodith nodded in satisfaction and sat in the back part of the boat. When he was secure, the watchman began to row across the icy waves. As the watchman had said, it was an easy trip. They made it across in no time, and he was hardly affected by the crossing.

The vampire nodded his thanks to the watchman before moving on. Redwater Den was a long way away, and Harkon would be expecting the filled Chalice soon. And failing Harkon – _creator_, his mind whispers again – was not an option.

So he set off, eyes alight with the prospect of the upcoming bloodshed.

Xx

Just as most of his recent journeys had been, it was rather dull. Nothing but deer and a few travelers crossed his path, and there was no reason to kill any of them. He didn't need to give the Dawnguard anything they could work with in order to learn his location, and deer were hardly sufficient prey.

He had found himself travelling mostly at night. In the first day, his arrogance in presuming that he would be greatly resistant to the sun in his new form was shattered. When he had left the all encompassing clouds that covered the mountains and far north, he had felt the first rays of the sun meet his skin.

Although he felt no pain, Brodith could feel what it was doing to his body. He grew weary, something that had become alien to him in the few days he had been a vampire. Quite frankly, the feeling of weakness and frailty that the sun forced upon him terrified the newly created Vampire Lord. The greatest amount of his arrogance and confidence in his false invulnerability was shattered as he realized just how weak he could be.

To avoid the feeling of weakness – something he'd spent his whole life fighting, striving to better himself to stave it off – he realized that he would have to lower himself to the level of his diseased kin. So, still reeling from the realization that his transformation had not made him all-powerful, he began to hide during the day. That had the unfortunate side effect of making his journey dull – few bandits actually preyed upon unwary travelers at night, as that was when the creatures of the night hunted.

Brodith shifted into his alternate form to increase the pace of his travels, realizing just how great barreling down the roads with his outstretched wings was. It made him feel free, freedom he hadn't felt since escaping from the Waterfront and the hellish life it offered.

Of course, it also forced him to keep tight control of his urges and emotions. In the Vampire Lord form, he wanted to slay everything he could find and absorb its energy into itself. The desire for power rang stronger in that form as well, and it constantly tempted him with the desire to destroy and kill.

He overcame it, and instead dominated the form. Over the three days it took him to journey to Redwater Den, he gained slightly more control over it and the instincts that came with it were more easily ignored. But that only made him realize just how powerful he truly was, and he ached to exercise his great power.

And that was why when arrived at Redwater Den in the dead of night, crossbow on his back and dagger in its sheath, he was practically trembling in anticipation. Brodith realized that he didn't have the desire to do an infiltration at this point, and instead prepared to tear into the Den with the ferocity of a Vampire Lord.

That step was, unfortunately, for later. He doubted it would be easy to get into the Den in the larger form, so he would have to kill anyone on the outside himself.

Brodith was thankful that he still had access to some of his powers. It made discovering where the sentries were located much easier. One was sitting down on the outside of the small, run down shack, holding a large axe across his lap. The other was inside the house, although the bosmer was only able to get a small glance at him from any angle. That one would have to be either drawn out to be shot with the crossbow or killed with the dagger.

Holding his breath, Brodith carefully lined up his shot. When he was confident that it would hit the sentry – hopefully fatally – he fired. The bolt was slightly off its mark, however, and the sentry let out a yelp of pain as the projectile buried itself into his unarmored arm.

He cursed as the sentry called for help, and quickly lined up another shot. The sentry was moving, making it slightly harder, but he managed to shoot the retreating man in the back. When the man fell forward, Brodith instantly sprung into action. He moved to the far right, where there was somewhat decent coverage, and put the crossbow on his back.

The bosmer withdrew the dagger from its sheath and snuck forward under the cover of darkness. He could see the unharmed sentry now, kneeling next to his companion and shaking him in panic. This was too easy.

Thanks to his cover, he easily crept up behind the man and slit his throat in a single, smooth motion. The dagger cut from ear to ear, and Brodith was glad that the large man hadn't been wearing armor that would close the gap between the chest and helmet that he had just taken advantage of.

Certain that there were no other sentries, Brodith searched around for a way to get into the Den. He found the small trapdoor in a short amount of time and quietly opened it up, not wanting to alert any additional sentries of his presence.

He climbed down the ladder, silently praying that no one would be waiting for him. When he reached the bottom the bosmer quickly turned around to examine his surroundings. Brodith didn't like the fact that he was in a narrow hallway, but continued onwards without hesitation. At the base of the stairs was a small room, and he stealthily went down the stairs.

When he reached the bottom, he looked into the room for just a moment. The lone guard didn't see him and continued staring blankly at a wall. Brodith thought that rather odd, but didn't let it distract him as he withdrew his crossbow and lined up the shot. A few seconds later he was satisfied and released the trigger, sending the bolt flying into the man's throat.

Brodith ignored the scent of the man's blood, although he noted that it smelled _wrong_ somehow, as though it belonged to someone else. The realization came suddenly, and he nearly face palmed when he saw that the man must have been the thrall of another vampire.

Now that the guard was dead, he pushed open the door. It led to another narrow stairway. He scowled and crept down. When he reached the bottom he saw that it had led into a much larger room, and what looked to be a bar protected by iron rods stood in front of him.

The bosmer eyed the barkeeper, but suddenly smelled the unforgettable scent of skooma. He wrinkled his nose at the offending scent and felt a renewed vigor to destroy this place. One of his brothers had been a skooma addict, and it had given him a lasting hatred of the drug.

Seeing that the barkeeper – or dealer – hadn't noticed him, Brodith smiled wickedly. He moved into the room until he had sufficient space and then began the transformation.

It was over quickly, with little of the pain he had had previously. The roar he let out at the end of the transformation attracted the bored dealer's attention, and she screamed at the sight of him. Brodith grinned at her as his blood burned with power and his mind roared at him to suck the life out of her.

Brodith kindly obliged, lazily thrusting his right hand out at her. The swirling ball of red energy that was released impacted her square in the chest – his aim was quite good, allowing him to barely shoot it through the bars – and a tendril of the energy connected him to her. The altmer's mouth gaped in surprise as her life force was torn away from her, fuelling the great power of a being many times her greater.

The spell had attracted the attention of an attendant, who had come running with his blade drawn the moment he had seen it. When the attendant – a rather large imperial – saw who had cast the spell, he froze. Brodith smiled at him, exposing his massive fangs, before draining his life. No one else came in a pathetic attempt to stop the Vampire Lord, presumably because they were too dead to the world to realize what was going on.

He idly floated around the corner, ignoring the corpses he had produced. They were meaningless, less than trash.

His bloodthirsty smile grew wider as he saw the numerous rooms, each with skooma smoke pouring out from it. Brodith easily swept aside the light curtain that hid the inhabitants from his view before draining their life. Each looked at him with bleary eyes, clearly not understanding anything that was going on, before their life was torn from them.

Brodith had gained a small amount of power from their deaths, but not as much as he would have liked. It didn't matter, though. He was surprised he had gotten that much from the addicts considering that half of them seemed about to die anyways.

When a locked gate got in his way, he growled in annoyance before reverting to his true form. He wasn't sure how strong he was, but he doubted that he would be able to break through an iron gate. So he pulled out his lockpick and went to work at the lock, carefully prodding and turning as he eased his tools into position. After a few minutes of patiently tinkering with the gate, he finally found the right position.

The bosmer carefully opened the gate, glaring at it in annoyance as it creaked loudly from the movement. He then slipped past the gate and into the formerly protected area. Brodith spotted a few bags of coins and several potions, but he ignored them. His bag couldn't hold much more, and he didn't have an overwhelming need of gold at the moment.

There was light falling into the small tunnel to his left, and he crept through it. When he saw that the passage led to a large, cavernous room filled with what looked like distilleries, as well as flimsy looking wooden platforms and bridges. He could also hear voices, loud enough that they had to have come from the cavern.

Brodith took care to stay in the shadows as he transformed, although he couldn't hold back the powerful roar that erupted from his throat as the process was completed. His sharp ears could hear several exclamations of confusion and fear, as well as one asking "What was that?".

He waited to see if any of the voices' sources would try to investigate his roar, and wasn't disappointed when a human – his glazed eyes gave him away as a thrall – cautiously stepped up the wooden ramp to his position. The human turned into his hiding place, dagger raised, and saw Brodith's snarling form.

Brodith could see pure, unadulterated fear in the man's eyes, briefly overwhelming the enthrallment before regaining control. With little concern for his safety, the man charge at him with the dagger raised high. The Vampire Lord met him head on, easily overpowering the fragile human.

The bosmer wrapped the man in his unfurled wings, muffling the moan of agony that emerged from the man's mouth as Brodith tore into the side of his neck, deeply drinking from the gaping wound. When Brodith was done, he felt oddly refreshed. His body felt just the slightest bit more powerful, something that confused him.

It seemed Harkon had left out that detail, instead leaving him to believe that he had to drain lives to become more powerful. Perhaps his other abilities needed to be examined more closely when he was finished with this mission.

He supposed it didn't matter right now, the bosmer mused as he allowed the pale corpse to drop to the ground with a thunk. All he needed to do was fill that Chalice and kill a vampire to complete the ritual. Then he would be free to explore the full realm of his abilities.

His thoughts came to an abrupt end as he heard concerned calls for the dead man. Brodith shrank into the shadows, his body nearly invisible in the darkness. He silently awaited for his prey to approach, absentmindedly licking his fangs.

Soon enough, a lesser vampire and her own thrall had arrived. The vampire gasped as she saw the massive piece of the man's neck that had been torn out, and Brodith thought that she might be ill. She likely thought that a werewolf had done it from the sheer size of the wound.

Unfortunately, Brodith gave the lesser vampire no time to call out a warning. He hissed and leapt out, easily latching onto the surprised woman's neck. In an instant he had ended her time as an undead, and her thrall blinked stupidly for a moment before he realized that something was wrong. The man looked at the newly formed pile of vampire dust with confusion before looking around.

The man – a fellow bosmer, although that meant little to Brodith anymore – looked as though he was about to scream as he saw the tall form of the Vampire Lord. Wanting to keep some sort of stealth advantage as he hunted these miserable creatures, he was promptly silence by Brodith's drain life ability.

As he looked down at the corpses, relishing the look of terror that was permanently imprinted on their faces, the Vampire Lord had an idea. He levitated slightly into the air, looking at the swirling, ghostly blue orb in his left hand in curiosity. He had wanted to test his powers, after all, and there was no time like the present.

So with a look of curiosity – a strange expression on his monstrous face, one that twisted it into an even more terrifying visage – he force the ball out of his hand and onto the bosmer he had just slain. He would have used the vampire, but she had the unfortunate fate of bursting into dust upon death. That was a rather annoying flaw, he realized, as it kept him from creating thralls that potentially had centuries of experience.

Still, he just wanted to try out his new abilities. He could wait before finding a powerful thrall. Brodith watched with a wide smile of satisfaction on his face as the magic engulfed the bosmer's fallen corpse. A bond between them formed, one much stronger than the one he had had with his first resurrected thrall.

The mindless thrall stared at him blankly, his dead eyes lacking the glazed look of living thralls. Brodith then realized he had no idea what to do – he had simply looked at his first thrall in amazement, too shocked at the fact he had actually managed to successfully use magic to comprehend whatever Serana had been telling him.

It couldn't be too hard, he thought. Lesser vampires could command their thralls with ease, so it should be an extremely simple task for a vampire of his stature to do. He decided to try and command the thrall with a thought, since he couldn't think of a simpler way.

_Kneel_, he commanded in his mind. His grin grew wider when it did so, prostrating itself before its master. It stayed there, feeling no pain from the rough wood beneath it.

Enthused by his success, he ordered the thrall to rise. Now that he at least knew the basics of what to do, he ordered it to step out of the tunnel and into the cavern. With any luck the vampires wouldn't notice the swirls of necromantic magic that surrounded him, or the side of his neck that was torn out.

Neither were very likely, he admitted to himself. No vampire would be blind enough to not see the wound, and they would each smell the scent of dead blood that reeked from the walking corpse. And even if they somehow missed the two obvious signs, there was still the obvious magic that kept the corpse moving. At the very least it would attract their curiosity.

His simple strategy was rewarded by shrill shouts from the cavern's remaining inhabitants, and he frowned as he felt the bond with his thrall being violently severed. A few seconds later he heard several shouts of rage and just as many pairs of feet storming up the bridge to his hiding place.

Two thrall's sighted him first, a look of fear springing up in their eyes before being overridden by their masters. They were easily felled by a single drain life spell, and their suddenly cold bodies collapsed to the ground in midstep.

Their masters turned around the corner next. They stared at their dead thralls for a moment before glancing up at the monster that was waiting for them. Brodith waited for them to start running before sucking the life out of them.

Brodith enjoyed this. This wasn't combat, this was butchery. The lesser creatures had no chance to defeat him, and no way to evade him. He was the ultimate predator; a lion amongst sheep, just as Harkon had said.

When no more arrived, he floated out. He didn't bother to create a thrall this time, since he wanted to know what his capabilities were. Brodith levitated down the ramp and up the hard dirt slope, following the thin boards. The bosmer followed the passageway it led to before coming to a forge.

It was well-stocked with everything a blacksmith could possibly need. Rows of tools hung on the wall, and he could see boxes of ingots and leather, as well as a barrel of some sort of oil, lined up against the wall. A vampire was pounding a large hammer into the red-hot portion of a sword, the loud chinks hurting his sensitive ears.

The blacksmith paid him no attention as he floated behind him, the noise from the hammer drowning out anything Brodith made. Brodith dropped down to his feet a little ways from the vampire, readying his claws. In a single motion he stepped up behind the vampire and wrenched his sharp claws into the small man's shoulders. The vampire tried to scream, but it dissolved into a moan of agony as Brodith stabbed his fangs into the blacksmith's neck.

When the lesser vampire fell over, his flesh sizzling as his face landed on the heated blade before he dissolved into dust, Brodith stood up. He felt slightly more power flow into him from the man's death, but he was distracted from the addicting sensation of the power's transfer by the great heat of the forge.

He had to admit that the vampire he'd just killed was impressively tough to stay in the vicinity of such heat for long, especially when a thrall could have done the job for him. Brodith sent a grudging look of respect at the coarse white dust before moving on.

A few feet away there was another way leading to an upraised bridge. Brodith gladly left the heat of the forge. He looked at the bridge in confusion for a moment, wondering just how he was supposed to get it down. In a halfhearted attempt, he tried pushing the bridge down. Despite the force behind it, the wood didn't so much as budge.

Annoyed, he bared his fangs at the bridge before floating away. He looked around the forge to see if there was a lever or chain he had missed, but soon realized that there was nothing but iron ingots and tools. The Vampire Lord then searched the area past the bridge, and grinned when he saw a lever.

He easily pulled it down, forcing the bridge to collapse onto the pillar of rock and dirt that brought the two sides together. Now that the bridge was down he floated to the other side, hoping that he hadn't exhausted the Den's supply of prey. There were plenty of powers he wanted to try out, after all.

A predatory grin grew on his face as he slowly floated down another set of ramps, as he could hear the blood that pounded underneath skin. Slight taps could be heard, and when he got a better view of the short cavern he was in he realized that he had stumbled into a mine.

Small carts loaded with large chunks of rock were scattered around, and he could see a solitary miner steadfastly picking away at the rock wall. Brodith couldn't see anymore miners or vampires around, but he could sense other presences around him. He even thought that he heard the familiar creaking of a skeleton.

He idly floated at the miner, not even giving him time to realize his new guest before draining his life. Brodith didn't even bother to look at the man before floating into his next target: a section of the tunnels that looked to be ancient Nordic in design.

Just as he passed the threshold into the new area, the skeleton he heard earlier shambled towards him. Brodith looked at it as he sucked the energy out of it. The swirling glow of necromantic energy that served as its eyes vanished, now empowering the Vampire Lord.

Before he had moved on from his latest victim, someone blasted arcs of bright electricity at him. It didn't do much damage, but the pain it caused more than made up for it. Had he been in his true form he would have been incapacitated, but as a Vampire Lord it barely fazed him.

He hissed as he turned towards his attacker, sending a drain life spell in its direction. A shimmering ward negated the worst of its power, but he could see that his attacker – a pretty imperial woman that was dressed in lightly glowing robes – was still weakened by the attack.

Taking advantage of her weakness, he blasted her with another drain life spell. That one finished her off, and he hissed at the thrall's corpse one last time before he moved on. He floated over the blank-eyed corpse, not sparing her a glance as he went down the passage she was guarding.

It was annoying bright from several torches and large urns of burning oil, but nowhere near as bright enough to weaken him. Nevertheless, he made sure to use his wings in order to get through the stone passage more quickly. At the end there was a fake rock wall next to a chain, easily visible despite the light that obscured his vision.

His claws were too large to fit into the small metal hoop, so instead he grabbed the outer part of it before pulling. The false stone shifted backwards and dropped down into its frame, the ancient gears groaning in protest all the while.

The new passage led downwards, and he could see that it was noticeably darker. A dim glow could be seen at the bottom, but it barely held back the darkness. It morphed from Nordic architecture to bare stone walls, clumsily excavated and reinforced in several areas by thick wooden beams.

Brodith had to crouch to get through the low tunnel, and almost had to revert to his true form to get through. He barely squeezed through, but finally arrived at another doorway. A coffin was in the small room he could see, and he could smell the rotting scent of death hounds.

As he entered, standing up to his full height, the coffin sprung open. He heard the low, bestial growls a second before the death hounds entered his vision, charging across the left side of the room before trying to leap at him.

He drained their life in mid leap, the blood red energy suffusing their forms before creating a tendril that attached to Brodith. A pitiful whine erupted from their dripping, icy maws as they fell. Brodith heard an outraged shriek from the coffin's inhabitant. A dim red glow engulfed her hand before she raised it, blasting a burst of hissing energy at him.

The vampiric drain spell barely affected him, and he laughed at her before slowly floating towards her. He savored her fear, his instincts enjoying the thrill it gave him. When she finally realized that her attempt at harming him had done little, the vampire tried to run away. Brodith idly raised a hand and drained the life from her. Her body crumbled into dust a few moments later, erasing the look of surprise on her pale face.

Brodith paid little attention to the various work stations the vampire had put up, instead choosing to float past them. He looked around as he moved into the passage the vampire had tried to escape into, choosing to head to the right. The Vampire Lord floated up the stairs, hissing in surprise as he realized that the hall was brightly lit by all manner of torches and flame.

Like before, he simply hastened his journey through it. He pushed through the large wooden doors at the end of it with his full strength, sending them slamming forwards. When he got through into more dim ruins, he quickly closed the doors to block the light.

There was a thick set of bars blocking a doorway to his left, and a large area to his right. He gloated over and looked around for a moment before he heard voices. Brodith paid little attention to their words, instead following the stairs that led downwards.

The people speaking didn't notice anything, and he carelessly floated forwards when he saw the end of the stairs. Brodith hissed in surprise as he fell into a hidden circle, his levitation doing little to help him as he fell downwards.

He managed to stop himself on a thick wooden beam, but realized that he couldn't escape the trap. His wings weren't meant for flying, after all. At best they were used to propel him forward and let him trap his prey.

Brodith looked down into the shadows of the pit and realized that there were a large amount of long, pointed wooden spikes at the bottom. He saw that the very edges were safe, and carefully dropped himself downward. The spikes were mere inches away from where he'd dropped, and it was only due to his levitation that he didn't stumble from the fall and into the spikes.

The bosmer carefully edged around the spikes until he finally reached the small doorway that would allow him to leave. Just before he moved forward, he saw massive metal objects swinging across the hall. He cursed, recognizing the damned things from several ruins he'd ventured into.

Before they had taken him quite a while to traverse, and often left him with some sort of injury. He stared at it for a few moments before wondering whether he had some way to instantly pass through the hall. It would save him time and keep him from being shot at by anyone who happened to find him.

He felt the power burning in his blood, and he tried to force the image of the hallway's end into his mind. The stone right in front of the oddly placed chest was his goal, and he envisioned himself appearing in front of it.

His blood burned, making it feel as though his veins were being burned away, and he roared in agony. Then his body split apart, and his mind felt as though it were in hundreds of smaller fragments for just a moment before it reformed into a solid whole.

Brodith's cruel eyes widened in confusion and awe as he looked at the chest a mere foot away. He looked backwards, just to make sure he really had changed positions. The Vampire Lord tried to remember what exactly had happened, but could only thing of the beating of hundreds of wings.

The bosmer shrugged, filing the information away for later. Surely Serana would know what had happened, and if not he could ask Harkon. It seemed to be quite the useful ability, and he was annoyed that his mentor hadn't seen fit to mention it to him.

Of course, he thought, that seemed to be true about a lot of things when it came to this form.

He took his mind off of those matters. They were a trivial concern for now, and would be until he actually completed this mission and had time to think.

So he turned and floated to the curved ramp, carefully listening for any sign that someone had learned his location. When he floated out into the open cavern, he couldn't detect anyone's fear or normal signs that the might have noticed him.

Brodith turned, silently looking for the sources of those voices he had heard earlier. When they began talking again, about some sort of leader, he zeroed in on their location. He slowly floated over, seeing that it was a thin female vampire and her thrall, a massive orc.

The bosmer was somewhat surprised by the fact she was speaking to her thrall – most simply obliterated the mind of the thrall unless they were extremely important or required for some other task – but the thrill of the upcoming feeding quelled it. He could smell death hounds nearby, but they didn't seem to be snarling at his presence yet.

"—So why don't you just enthrall the addicts? They would probably be better as your cattle, less work anyway." The orc grunted. Brodith took that moment to roar, terrifying the vampire and making the thrall swiftly turn his gaze in his direction.

Brodith snarled at the brute before draining the life out of him. The waifish vampire cried out in despair as the orc fell to the ground, but he put her out of her misery soon enough. Now, however, the death hounds had begun roaring at him and trying to bite through the flimsy cages to get to him.

He decided to give them their chance. The bosmer carefully unlatched their door and yanked it open with his claws. Barely any time had passed before the monstrous canines bounded out of their pen, leaping at him with their icy jaws wide open. Brodith got a good look at one's oversized fangs before it dropped dead to the ground.

The other beast proved to be slightly more difficult. It hadn't been hit by his spell, and had managed to lock its powerful jaws around his arm. Brodith hissed at the unfamiliar sensation of pain and dropped to his feet. He tried to shake the death hound off, but the monstrous creature resolutely kept its jaws clamped down.

Brodith roared at the impudent monster and tried to tear into its throat. His arm was beginning to feel cold from the death hound's frosty breath, and he realized that the death hound was actually beginning to damage him. Unfortunately, even his fangs were barely able to penetrate the thick skin of the monster.

He struck at the death hound with his other hand, raking its face with his claws. Although it growled in pain, it continued to crunch down on his arm. His next attack, however, forced the beast off. Brodith clawed at its throat and a feral grin split his face as long gashes appeared in the hound's throat.

It backed off, whining as thick black blood poured from its throat. Brodith growled at it one last time before draining its remaining life force. As the energy travelled from the unnatural creature, Brodith felt the torn flesh on his arm knit back together as if the attack had never happened.

Brodith glared one last time at the body before finding his way up another curving wooden ramp. The stone bridge it led up to went into another hallway, where he found a chain. He pulled it and saw the bars that had previously obstructed his path vanish.

He went through the gate that had just opened next to him and passed through the hallway. The door led into the catacombs of this particular ruin, and he noticed that there were small puddles of red water on the ground. Brodith didn't pay it any attention, figuring that this was the red water that the Den was named for.

The Vampire Lord tore through his enemies as he passed through, not even bothering with stealth as he came across the vampires and their hounds. Oddly enough they had no thralls, but he supposed that only a few of the vampires could afford to keep them.

Eventually, he found another closed gate. A chain hung right next to it, and when pulled it opened it. He winced again at the lit area. Three doors were in the circular chamber, but he ignored the two wooden ones. They looked newer, which meant that they likely just led to a storeroom. Instead, he opened the door made of the same material most of the ancient Nordic ruins were.

His guess turned out to be right, as it led into another section of the catacombs. This part wasn't inhabited, so the smell of death lingered. It wasn't particularly pleasant, as it was only the scent of blood that made him override his usual aversion to the dead, but there weren't any enemies either.

Brodith noticed that he levitated over a pressure plate, and wondered what it would have triggered. His answer arrived as he turned the corner and saw the massive spiked wall that would have slammed into him had he been foolish enough to step on it. Several other traps were in the area, and he could see another spiked wall held up on the cave's ceiling.

The bosmer hurriedly floated through the room, making sure that there weren't any tripwires his feet might accidently snap. There were none, and he quickly opened the door at the end of the catacombs. It led into a large cavern, and he could see several forms moving in the darkness.

A sniff of the air told him that there were several vampires in the area, as well as two thralls. The familiar creaking warned him of a skeleton. Nothing that would seriously hinder him.

So he threw all caution to the wind and announced his presence with a fearsome roar. The figures all turned towards him, and in an impressive – or idiotic – display of courage they all attacked. Several bursts of lightning and ice streaked towards him, but he managed to dodge most. A single shard of magically glowing ice landed in his chest, but it wasn't sharp enough to penetrate his thick hide. It bounced off, landing on the cold stone where it shattered.

Brodith roared again, this time throwing his drain life spell at the thrall that was running at him with two axes raised. The thrall's eyes rolled back in his head as he dropped to the ground, his life transferred to the Vampire Lord. Two of the remaining vampires moved to attack him next, although they tried to drain his life from him while they were still out of melee range.

Their attacks did little, but just before he could suck their life out as well a sharp arrow plunged into his shoulder. Brodith snarled at the assault and tore the arrow out, ignoring the sharp pain that spread throughout the area as he did so.

Just as he prepared to drain their life to repair the damage, a door at the far end of the room opened and ten more combatants rushed out, moving to aid their fellows. For the first time Brodith felt nervous, suddenly lacking the confidence he had felt before. He was more than powerful enough to deal with either this group or the one that had just arrived, but he wasn't sure of his capability in striking down bot.

He wasted no more time, but instead drained the life of the two vampires that had charged. They exploded into dust, and Brodith roared again as the damage from the arrow healed. He heard the clatter of bones falling to the ground, so he supposed that one of those vampires had raised the skeleton.

It was then that the larger group finally got in range. Nearly all of them began to fire streams of lightning at him, the cumulative effect stunning him. Eventually his resistance to pain kicked in and he roared yet again, firing a drain life spell at the massed group. His left hand raised the corpse of the thrall, giving the remainder of the group a distraction.

Unfortunately for him, the vampires in the front of the group had raised wards that negated some of the spell's effect. They were still weakened, and the wards flickered out of existence as they tried to regain their breath.

Three of them charged at the Vampire Lord with swords in one hand and spells in the other. They threw fireballs at him, which he caught full on in the chest. One of the survivors from the first group seemed to have found a bow, as an arrow had just bounced off of his chest.

Brodith began to wish that Serana was here to cover him. She would have torn the entire group apart. But she wasn't, so he had to do the best he could.

His thrall clumsily moved toward the vampires that were nearing its master, raising its axe to defend the Vampire Lord. It kept the two vampires off of him as Brodith assaulted the massed group of spellcasters, throwing drain life after drain life spell at them. Several of the weaker ones had succumbed to it already, although four of them were still going strong.

The Vampire Lord finally realized that the vampires would defeat him long before he managed to overwhelm the wards that they were hiding behind. He roared in fury before draining the life of the two vampires that had just cut down his thrall. They collapsed into dust, and he noticed that the mages had shifted their spells from the agonizingly painful lightning to the much more dangerous fire.

He glared at the vampires before he envisioned himself appearing in front of them. His blood boiled again as his mind split up into hundreds of different fragments, sending him reeling in temporary confusion before it reformed with his body.

His foes were shocked for a moment, and hadn't recovered yet before Brodith tore into them with his claws. Their powerful wards did little to defend against him now, and two were dead before they could realize what was going on. Brodith killed the next with a single swipe, separating the head from the shoulders with his claws.

The last one he tore into, enveloping the pale man in his wings before latching onto the neck. He drank deeply, taking far more than the vampire could handle. Brodith felt refreshed as the monster burst into dust. Some of the burns from the spells he'd suffered from healed, although he was still feeling the pain from his wounds.

Then an arrow bounced off of his boney wings. Brodith had actually forgotten about the little archer…too bad for the vampire that he had been reminded. He easily located the lesser being with his senses. It was cowering above him, seemingly safe from his wrath. The Vampire Lord grinned and used his newfound power to instantly appear in the man's face.

Although he wanted to say some witty comment, something that would imprint upon the vampire just how foolishly he'd acted in alerting Brodith to his presence, he decided that tearing his throat out was just as good a way as any. He felt a slight desire to just do it with his claws and ignore the small power boost he would get, but decided that he needed as much power as possible.

So his fangs met the terrified man's throat, draining out all of the blood the vampire had. The man's eyes rolled up in the back of his head just before he exploded into dust.

Brodith used his new power to move back to the ground, now barely having to focus on his destination. He simply thought of it, his blood boiled and then he found himself standing there. It was quite useful.

All that was between him and the door was a long stone table with several drained corpses lying on top of it. He simply levitated around it and went through the small door, ducking to avoid smashing his head against it. When he entered the new area – a large cavern – he could see a strange well of blood red water and energy bubbling in the center of the room. Deeming this to be the area he needed to fill the Chalice from, he reverted to his true form.

When the transformation was complete, Brodith dug around in his bag for the Chalice. He carefully withdrew it, ensuring that he wouldn't be cut on the jagged spikes that adorned it. When he had it in his grasp, the bosmer walked down to the well. The bosmer saw that several bloody bones were in it, and he could smell the alluring scent of blood as he crouched and filled the Chalice with the water.

He stood up and covered the top with a layer of leather with similar enchantments to his armor – it would keep any of the precious water from dripping out on the journey. As he prepared to leave, he saw two humanoid forms slip out from behind a wall. When they grew closer, he could see that they were two vampires he vaguely recognized from Castle Volhikar. Doubting they were here to help him, he carefully set the Chalice down.

"It's really too bad, you know." The female said dramatically. "The little accident you had here completely unexpected…"

Brodith snarled, preparing for a fight. The transformation would barely take any time, but he didn't know how fast these vampires would be. Any preparation at all would be a boon.

"Yeah, too bad." The male said. "Lord Harkon's new favorite, dead so soon after joining the family."

"We'rejust lucky I was here to return the Chalice to Vingalmo," she said, eying the glimmering Chalice with desire, "so he could make sure Harkon gets it back."

"Wait, what?" The male exclaimed. "That's not what we agreed. We take it back together."

"Idiot." She sneered. "You didn't really think I'd let you walk out of here either, did you? Vingalmo wants you both dead."

"Well that's just fine. Orthjolf told me to finish off anyone who got in the way."

A sudden roar interrupted the fools. During their little spat Brodith had transformed into the glorious form of a Vampire Lord. The lesser creatures backed away in fear as the paragon of their kind glared at them with rage in its eyes.

"Fools!" Brodith hissed, his words cutting into their feeble minds. They screeched in agony as he imbued the words with hatred and power that few beings possessed. "Did you think to defeat a Vampire Lord so easily? Compared to me you are but specks of dust! I am the hunter, you are little more than glorified leeches that have managed to burrow their way into our graces."

The bosmer roared once again as he leapt into action, his claws tearing into the female's chest. She was forced on the ground, but it was not a fatal blow. When he was sure that she was incapacitated the Vampire Lord turned to her ally.

He lunged at him, but the man was surprisingly tough. The lesser creature raised his axe and forced it into Brodith's shoulder. It was a grievous and painful wound, but it did little to stall the enraged bosmer. Before the man could dodge the claws, Brodith had forced his massive fangs into the vampire's pale throat. The man screamed in pain before Brodith drained everything out of him.

In a few seconds the man exploded into dust. Brodith sneered at it before reverting to his true form. The bosmer walked over to the woman's position. She was beginning to recover, and he could see the familiar sight of a drained health potion lying next to her.

Brodith scowled at her before brutally kicking her in the face. She gasped as the thick leather impacted her cheek, shattering it and knocking her back down. The ancient vampire was huddled in the fetal position, looking like nothing more than a crying child.

He took advantage of her weakness to recover the Chalice, which he then brought back to her. To keep her from trying anything Brodith grabbed her by the throat and held her in front of him. His left hand carefully withdrew his dagger and he leveled the fearful woman's head a few inches above the Chalice.

The bosmer carefully circled around her and put his dagger up to her throat. She could feel the blade pressing harshly against it, drawing a thin line of blood.

"You should be honored." Brodith whispered into her ear. "Not many can claim to have been a vital part of Lord Harkon's rise to power."

With that he cut her throat, allowing as much of the blood as possible to drain into the Chalice. It barely changed the color of the water, although it was clearly thicker. When the blood flow began to thin, he pulled the Chalice away and covered it. A few seconds later the drained vampire exploded into dust.

Brodith smiled as his task was completed and carefully picked up the precious Chalice. He walked over to where they had emerged from and found a door. The bosmer continued to follow the path until it led to a gateway into a store room of some sort. After looking around for a moment Brodith found the exit, which led him into the bar in which the dealer had been drained of her life.

The dealer's corpse was still staring up at the sky with glazed eyes, and Brodith paid no attention to her. He wanted to return to Harkon and present the Chalice. Hopefully it would be the last task he had to do for a while, or at least until Serana had found some sort of explanation for the odd feelings he was experiencing.

It was with a grimace on his face that he emerged from the Den, silently hating the sunlight that singed his face. He sighed and began his journey back to the lonely castle, raising his hood as he stepped out of the ruins of the home and onto the overgrown road.


End file.
